


The Butcher of Camelot

by Lady Angel (dameange)



Category: Criminal Minds, Merlin (BBC)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-06
Updated: 2010-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-11 12:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dameange/pseuds/Lady%20Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is slaughtering men in Camelot. Morgana knows Arthur will die by this murderer's hand. Merlin will not let that happen. Even if it means calling forth help from the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Butcher of Camelot

**Author's Note:**

> [Click for amazing poster for the story](http://boxofmagic.talkoncorners.net/viewstory.php?sid=43) by breakingbeads.
> 
> [Click for the PERFECTLY MADE video for the story](http://boxofmagic.talkoncorners.net/viewstory.php?sid=44) by breakingbeads. **Please leave Beads feedback for the incredible work for me, m'kay? I already have but the more the merry most definitely. Thank you!**
> 
> Click [From the Present](http://boxofmagic.talkoncorners.net/viewstory.php?sid=36) and [From the Future](http://boxofmagic.talkoncorners.net/viewstory.php?sid=35) for the cast of characters from both shows made by me.
> 
> Thank you to: Sara, for being the best cheerleader ever! And Krystal, for giving me lots of great advice.  
> Spoilers: Merlin = up to Le Morte d’Arthur, Criminal Minds = all episodes  
> Hotchner/Reid – established relationship. Haley has passed away and they’re both raising Jack.  
> This story is a sequel to a story I haven’t even finished writing yet. Yeah, yeah, I _know_. In the course of writing this story, I realized I needed a plot element that meshed nicely with that story. Basic story plot? Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer, is the daughter of CM’s David Rossi. There’s more to that story, of course, but that’s all that really matters to this story. Only one character from BtVS shows up in this story and her part in it is like two pages long. So, if you don’t know/watch/care about BtVS, no worries. It shouldn’t affect this story at all. Just know that because Buffy is Rossi’s daughter, he and the rest of the BAU now know about magic.

### Prologue

  
Golden hair drenched red with blood. Blue eyes vacant with death. Strong body butchered like so many others. Sword arm desecrated with the mark of a monster.

  
Uther dying of gray, fiery grief.

  
Gaius murdered, bed soaked crimson.

  
Gwen torn, bloody, dead by her own hand, in the bed of the self-appointed, lone surviving king.

  
Morgana screamed but no one came to help. She struggled against hands ripping at her gown, fondling her breasts. Laying hands where they had no right. Shrieking with the tearing of her maidenhead.

  
“Morgana! Wake up!”

  
Pain exploded across her cheek.

  
“My lady!”

  
“Gwen.” Morgana jerked upright, grabbing onto her, desperate for an anchor to this world. She shuddered in her maid’s arms, fighting vision-induced fear. She knew what she had to do. “Come, Gwen.”

  
Gwen was staring at her in confusion, as she pulled out of her arms and pushed off the bed, but helped her with her robes. Morgana waved away her attempts to dress her.

  
“No time, Gwen, no time.” She grabbed her friend’s hand, pulling her out into the chilly night.

  
“My lady, where are we going?” Gwen breathlessly kept up, clutching her own hastily drawn-on robes tightly against the cool autumn air.

  
“Merlin, we need Merlin.”

* * *

### Chapter One

  
Arthur jumped out of bed as soon as he heard Morgana’s screams. Was in his breeches and boots, sword in hand, just as the two women dashed past his chamber door. He cursed, low and angry. There was a murderer roaming Camelot. What the hell were they thinking flitting about at night? He followed them, knowing if he tried to stop them, tried to question them, he and Morgana would only quarrel. Better to follow, learn, protect out of sight.

  
He wasn’t surprise to find them heading to Gaius’ tower. After all, the royal physician had been treating Morgana for her nightmares for ages. Now knowing their destination, Arthur decided to wait outside Gaius’ chambers, giving Morgana her privacy. That notion crumbled to dust the second Morgana pleaded to see Merlin. Why the hell would Morgana need to see his manservant?

  
Arthur moved silently into the room, into the shadows, unnoticed by all. Morgana was still clearly distraught, Gwen was hovering protectively, Gaius was at Merlin’s door. Merlin surprised everyone, stumbling out before Gaius could knock, already dressed. Merlin was notorious for his love of sleep and his hate of mornings. His black hair was in sleepy disarray around his ridiculous ears and his clothing was completely rumpled. But his eyes were wide with concern and awareness.

  
“Merlin!” Morgana held out beseeching hands.

  
Merlin knelt where she perched, face tilted up, gazing into her eyes. His long fingers were twined with Morgana’s, holding so tightly, her knuckles were bleached white. Arthur forced himself not to knock them apart.

  
“Merlin, you have to stop him!” Morgana begged, beautiful face pale with determination and fear.

  
“Stop who, my lady?” Voice pitched low and soothing, Merlin was taking her far more seriously than warranted by just a night terror.

  
“The murderer. The one taking the hands.” Her voice was hushed with terror, eyes wide and pleading.

  
Arthur nearly scoffed. What the hell could a skinny, untrained servant do that he and his knights couldn’t? They had searched everywhere, questioned everyone, in Camelot. Not a trace of the murderer could be found. Merlin said as much, wincing when Morgana sank her nails into his lily white skin. He jumped as he heard his name.

  
“Arthur--” Morgana broke off, gasping as if in pain. “He will kill Arthur.”

  
Dreadful stillness enveloped the room. Arthur wanted to laugh at that impossibility but Morgana’s haunted eyes, the brutality of the murders, the sheer number of strong men slaughtered stayed his tongue.

  
“He will kill Arthur.” Morgana’s voice was ghastly soft, eyes far away. “Uther will die from anguish and heartache. The lords will war; the most brutal will rule Camelot.” She reached out to take one of Gwen’s hands, gaze filled with sorrow, apology. She turned those terrible, pale blue eyes back to Gaius and Merlin. “Gaius will be murdered in his sleep. Gwen will be called to the new king’s bed.”

  
Gaius sat heavily, his old frame crumpling in as if he believed every word from Morgana’s mouth. Gwen paled beneath her chocolate skin. Tears ran down Morgana’s cheeks.

  
“After he is done with her, she will take her own life, rather than be raped again.”

  
Gwen bit her own hand, horrified by her lady’s words. Arthur clenched his fists. Why the hell was Morgana saying such hideous things? His father’s death. The kingdom falling. Gaius’ murder. Gwen’s death and assault. He wanted her to stop this very instant.

  
Morgana was far from done.

  
“The people will wither and die. The kingdom will be fractured.” She laughed mercilessly. “And I . . . I will receive the new king’s generous offer of marriage.” Her eyes disconnected from them all, far away, a place with horrors seen only by her eyes. “When I decline, when I resist, he will throw me to his favored lords and knights to do as they will.” The room stank of revulsion and denial even as Morgana shuddered back into her own body. Her stare turned back to Merlin. “Please,” she begged, “please.”

  
Merlin nodded as if he knew that these terrors would come to be.

  
Arthur could not stay silent anymore. “Morgana,” he drawled lazily, voice far from the tension infusing his body, “what do you expect Merlin to do about your nightmares that Gaius can’t?” He was gratified to see all of them jump. All except Merlin, that is. His manservant merely turned. Arthur nearly flinched from the foreboding in those deep blue eyes.

  
“Arthur!”

“Sire!”

“Your highness--”

  
Arthur ignored them all, focusing his attention on his father’s ward, surprised at Merlin’s silence.

  
Morgana jumped to her feet, anger finally giving her color, more like the pseudo-sister he had always known. Chin lifted, noble bearing, and womanly outrage highlighted her magnificent beauty. “They are not _nightmares_,” she hissed. “They are visions.” Her chin lifted even higher, daring him. “I’m a seer. These horrors will come to pass, Arthur.”

  
“My lady--” Gaius’ warning tone alerted Arthur to the older man’s fear. Fear for Morgana’s life as she admitted to being a magic user in a kingdom where magic meant death by the hand of the crown.

  
Arthur narrowed his eyes, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “Are you confessing to using magic?”

  
Her laughter was bitter to his ears. “Use? Arthur, I don’t know how to use magic! It uses me. Visions as nightmares, nightmares as truth.” Her eyes were wild now, flashing with terrible truth. “I was born to be driven mad by magic.”

  
“Morgana.” Merlin surprised them all, voice full of sympathy, arms pulling her into the shelter of his body as if it wasn’t a presumption above his station. As if Arthur wasn’t standing _right there_. “I’ll help you control them. We’ll find a way.”

  
She looked so pathetically grateful; he looked as if he wanted to take on a dragon for her. Arthur seethed at their closeness.

  
“And the murderer?” she asked, hushed still frightened.

  
“And the murderer,” Merlin promised.

  
“And what, Morgana, do you think Merlin could possibly do to find the murderer that my knights and I can’t?” He raked them with a demanding glare when Merlin, Morgana, and Gaius kept silent. Gwen was merely confused. He included the three of them in his hard stare, addressed the question to Morgana, but he wanted to hear the answer from Merlin himself. “What can you do for Morgana that our finest physician can’t? What can you do to find the murderer that I can’t, Merlin?”

  
Arthur needed to know but in his very bones he knew he didn’t _want_ to know. He stared into Merlin’s so very blue eyes, never so endless as they were now. Flinched as they flared gold. Arthur didn’t look away, couldn’t look away from those magic-filled eyes. Didn’t until Gwen gasped, jumping to her feet. There, mere inches from Merlin’s hand, a heavy tome floated in mid-air. Gaius was blanched colorless; Gwen was staring at Merlin in obvious shock and confusion. Morgana didn’t look surprised at all.

  
Arthur blinked once his head cleared; found himself in Merlin’s room, the other man slammed between him and the door. Panicked shouts and useless begging sounded from the other side. Huge blue eyes stared down at him. Wiry body shaking in his hands. “You--”

  
“I would never hurt you! Never!” Merlin wasn’t babbling, voice not high pitched or frantic. Instead low, focused, intent. Body trembling, hands griping Arthur’s shoulders tight, but his eyes were clear of fear, old with knowledge, shining with golden truth. “You are my prince. You will be my king. I serve you.”

  
Arthur leaned in, nose to nose. “I know that, you idiot.”

  
He thoroughly enjoyed the look of utter confusion on Merlin’s face. “You do?”

  
Arthur couldn’t help his smirk. “Of course I do.” He poked Merlin in the shoulder. “You may be an idiot, but I am not.”

  
Merlin’s eyes narrowed. What? Did he really think Arthur didn’t notice all of the magical going-ons around them? Didn’t notice that, until Merlin had arrived in Camelot, not a single magical incident had occurred to Arthur? He was no fool, listening to the people when they didn’t know, hearing the whispers that magic was coming back to Camelot. At first he thought that people were talking about the terrible things plaguing the kingdom but then he realized the whispers were reverent, anticipatory. Too many had died for the people to want the return of malicious magic. He had turned things over and over in his mind. And then . . . and then Gwen’s father had taken ill from the poisoned water, then miraculously recovered. Gwen had been thrown into the dungeons, accused of being a witch. Merlin, the brave fool, had confessed in front of the king and his council to save his friend. Gaius had gone white as his hair and Arthur had his suspicions confirmed.

  
For weeks he watched Merlin, finding him steadily improving his skills as a servant, as Gaius’ apprentice, but not one whit of viciousness or cruelty. He even cheerfully talked and played with the boys who threw rotten fruits and vegetables at him, whenever he was sent to the stocks for one wrong or another. Merlin was not a danger to Camelot. If everything Arthur figured out was true, then Merlin was protecting Camelot. Protecting Uther, and Morgana, and Gwen, and Gaius. Protecting Arthur most magnificently for all of his ineptitude as a servant.

  
As for his father’s fear of magic? From the moment Arthur could fully understand, his father had extolled the death, destruction, and chaos resulting from magic. Uther had banned it from his kingdom for years, punishment for the use was unmerciful death. Well, two of the people closest to the crown were magic users. Here was Morgana, the king’s ward herself, the foremost lady of the realm and a seer. And Merlin, manservant and friend to the heir of the throne, a sorcerer. If all magic users were evil then they would get no closer to the throne as they were now.

  
But no matter what his father said, Arthur could see no malice in Merlin or Morgana. They were in Gaius’ rooms, in the middle of a cold night, trying to stop his death. Using sorcery to keep Camelot in the hands of the Pendragons.

  
“You’ve known all this time?” Merlin now hung limp in his hands, kept upright only by Arthur’s grip.

  
“Yes, Merlin, all this time.” Arthur bit back the laugh at Merlin’s pout.

  
“Why didn’t you say anything?”

  
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “I was waiting for you to tell me.” Hot anger roared again. “Imagine my surprise when Morgana already knew.”

  
Merlin stiffened, glared. “I never told her.”

  
He saw the truth in Merlin’s eyes, letting the tension go, his body now leaning instead of looming. “Then how did she--”

  
“You prat.” With the relaxing of Arthur’s body, Merlin relaxed too, the affection clear in his voice. “She’s a seer. She probably saw it in her dreams.”

  
Arthur didn’t bother rebuking Merlin for his insult, too relieved. It made him feel inordinately better that Merlin did not share his secrets with Morgana. Not willingly anyway. They stood like that, pressed shoulder to feet to each other, breathing secrets shared.

  
“Arthur?”

  
He studied the questioning eyes but savored the feel of Merlin’s hand resting over his heart instead of clenching at his shirt in fear or anger. “You’re forgiven.”

  
Merlin gave him a raised brow but he was smiling. “For what?”

  
“Not telling me the truth.”

  
Merlin scoffed. “Oh, yeah, right. What was I supposed to do? Write you a letter? My dear prat, I’m a wizard. Please don’t tell your father who happens to kill anyone who uses magic.”

  
“Don’t call me that.” It was reflexive now and for the life of him, Arthur didn’t know why he didn’t put Merlin in the stocks every time he called him that. “I wouldn’t have told him. I won’t tell him.”

  
Merlin sighed, leaning forward a little, letting their foreheads rest against each other. “I know. I . . . just . . . I didn’t know what to say so that you wouldn’t hate me.”

  
Arthur snorted. “You’re an idiot, the worst servant ever, and a criminal but I couldn’t hate you.”

  
Amazingly enough, Merlin laughed, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s shoulders for a full body hug. Arthur let it happened and enjoyed it before reluctantly pulling back. “C’mon, let’s go figure all this out.”

  
The moment he walked through the door, three sets of eyes anxiously settled on him. Arthur rolled his eyes. “Oh for the love of – I’m not going to turn over my sister and my friend to be executed.” He raked them with a disgusted glare. “What kind of person do you people think I am?”

  
Merlin, predictably, smirked. “A royal prat.”

  
Arthur glared at him. “Stocks, Merlin, stocks.” He tried and failed to hide his grin as Merlin idiotically smiled, even with the threat of punishment in the air. With that smile, the last of the tension drained from the room. He swatted at Merlin’s arm, pulling Morgana to sit between Gwen and himself. “Now, explain this vision again. Slowly and with more sense this time.”

  
A murderer had been terrorizing Camelot for nigh on three months now. Ten men had fallen under his blade. People refused to leave their homes after dark. Guards swallowed their pride and patrolled in twos and threes after one of them had been slaughtered. Every man dead had had his right hand removed and taken, body ripped, blood soaking the ground. The king and his advisors could do no more than push Arthur and his knights to find the man but their efforts were completely futile. No matter how many people they placed in the dungeons on suspicion of murder, the killings did not stop. Thundering pressure from his father, the pleading eyes of the people, begging for safety. Arthur could bear it no more.

  
And now this. Morgana had visions, admitted to being a seer. Merlin a sorcerer, Gaius hiding him under the king’s very nose all this time. Arthur was nearly ready to do something stupid and childish. He wanted everything to go back to the way it was: Morgana’s nightmares mere nightmares, his only worry training his knights. He wanted Merlin to be a mere commoner who worked for Gaius and not someone who mattered so much to Arthur and in so much danger. As he listened to Morgana, he realized no matter how much he wanted to simply run and hide, he could not. With magic involved, with Merlin and Morgana involved, Arthur knew the responsibility of finding this murderer would fall squarely on his shoulders, more than ever before. “All right, we need a plan.”

  
Merlin openly showed his surprised. “You’ll help?”

  
“Of course, I’m going to help. You couldn’t plan your way out of your bedroom.” He smirked as Merlin glared.

  
“Oy, saved your ass enough times.”

  
The ladies gasped even though their eyes were bright, mirthful. Gaius berated Merlin for his language. Merlin begged for forgiveness, ruining it all by hitting Arthur when he laughed.

* * *

“There’s nothing useful.” Merlin groused, frustration written in the lines of his face, along the lines of those ridiculously sharp cheekbones.

  
Morgana and Gwen both sighed. The two women were curled up together on the bench under Gaius’ blanket. The physician was busy puttering around, making tea. None of them said anything, tired from the rush of exposure and confession.

  
Arthur didn’t comment as he was fascinated with watching him. Merlin, who had to be talked through dressing a person the first time, stood with his hands hovering over the heavy, floating grimoire. The book was opened and glowed a lighter gold than Merlin’s eyes, its pages were turning, fast, furious, by an unseen hand. He murmured no magical words, didn’t even seem to be exerting any effort whatsoever. If Arthur wasn’t seeing it with his own eyes, he would have laughed his ass off right before sending the person who told him to the stocks.

  
Merlin frowned as the pages flipped back and forth. “There are truth spells but that’s only useful if we know who the killer is and wanted a confession.”

  
“Nothing to summon the killer?” Gaius asked, coming to look over Merlin’s shoulder.

  
Merlin’s lip curled into a snarl. “Only if we had a lock of his hair and wanted to capture him more easily. Nothing to find out who he is.”

  
“What about summoning one of the men who died?”

  
They all whipped around to stare at Gwen. The lady’s maid started at all of the attention.

  
“Gwen?” Morgana coaxed.

  
“Well . . . that is . . . I don’t know anything about magic,” she darted fearful eyes towards the door. Her fear was understandable; after all, she did lose her father to a false allegation of witchcraft. “But if Merlin could summon one of the murdered men, we could ask him who killed him?”

  
Arthur grinned at her. “You’re brilliant.” He spun to Merlin, expectant.

  
Merlin wasn’t looking at him but his lips were tilted in a hopeful smile. His gold eyes were already far away as his hands hovered once more over the book, the pages turning manically before coming to a dead stop. His sorcerer grabbed the book, looking down at the page, lips lifting again in satisfaction. “I have it.”

* * *

### Chapter Two

  
Arthur had told his father that being cooped up in the castle was doing absolutely no good for any of them. Then he pointed out that all of the men who had died had been alone when they were killed. He had to promise his father that they would bring with them a legion of guards. That was the only way Uther would let the four of them leave the grounds for a picnic in the nearby woods.

  
They set out, surrounded not only by guards and knights, but every noble who had tired of confinement and every servant they thought they needed. The servants carried baskets and baskets of food, large blankets and games that were meant to be play outdoors. The nobles truly thought of the whole outing as a wonderful lark. The idiots were sure that no murderer would dare touch a noble and that all the knights and guards would prevent anything from happening. Arthur had to force himself not to snarl at them. Didn’t they understand? Didn’t they see the fatherless children? The husbandless wives? The sonless parents? He kept close to Merlin, Morgana, and Gwen, thankful they knew better.

  
Arthur ordered the legion to take a different route as soon as they left the gates. His knights had protested, the nobles and guards warily siding with them, until Morgana flashed her regal eyes at them and Arthur growled to be left alone. Against one or the other, the knights and nobles may have succeeded but not against both; they all left, going on towards a clearing big enough for their picnic. They started whispering that Arthur wanted private time with Morgana, with only their servants as chaperones. Little did they know. About anything. Now alone, Arthur, Merlin, Morgana, and Gwen took off on their horses, riding fast and free, as if their only aim was to enjoy their freedom.

  
“Merlin, where are we going?” Arthur had to reign in Clovis in, making the horse follow Merlin and Morgana’s. Clovis, used to be the lead horse, didn’t like following any other horse but was obedient to his master’s wishes. Unlike some people Arthur knew. “Merlin?”

  
“We’ll know when we get there.”

  
Arthur rolled his eyes at the vague answer but was content to let the matter lie for now. He and Gwen merely shrugged at each other, following silently in the other two’s path. They rode, mostly in silence but then the peace and quiet got boring. “So, Gwen, when did you find out about Morgana?”

  
Gwen cast a fond look at the two magical of their party. “After the Questing Beast, sire.”

  
“Really? How?” Arthur glanced up to see Merlin and Morgana leaving the path, steering Clovis after them.

  
“It was too much of a coincidence, sire. Everything time Morgana dreamed like that, something terrible would happen.” She cast him a chastising look. “No one ever believed her except Merlin and Gaius.”

  
He bobbed his head, acknowledging that he was definitely one of those people. “And Merlin? Did you know about him?” She hesitated; Arthur rolled his eyes. “We’re _all_ being treasonous right now, Guinevere.”

  
She huffed a little laugh. “I always wondered because he was always there and fixing things.”

  
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Funny how he can’t fix my armor worth a damn but he can fix all of the crises we’ve had, isn’t it?”

  
She laughed, nodding. They both lapsed into silence again.

  
They rode for forever until Merlin and Morgana both suddenly stopped their horses. They came upon a clearing, perfectly circular, not made by human hands. Arthur could feel the power here and wondered what it felt like to the magical. Dismounting, Arthur helped Merlin untie the satchel on the back of his horse. Everyone had thought it held treats that Arthur did not want to share with the rest of the picnickers. Instead, it had been filled with the potions and ingredients for the summoning spell Merlin had practiced for nearly two days.

  
In those two days time, another man had been killed. Another guard, one Arthur had trained and known. He would be the one they would call upon, he would be the one they questioned. Arthur watched as Morgana helped Merlin prepare for the summoning spell. It seemed simple enough: draw a circle into the ground with a virgin dagger, sprinkle the potion into the circle, light the candles, and say the spell.

  
Arthur took his position next to Merlin, unwilling to leave the other man unprotected from whatever was going to happen. He was gratified to see Morgana and Gwen unsheathing their own swords, standing further back and together. If something went wrong, they should be out of immediate danger. Not so with Merlin or himself. His sorcerer stood with his toes brushing the line of the circle. Arthur stood almost as close.

  
Merlin stretched out his hands, holding them up to the sky. Old words flowed from his lips, gold gleamed in his eyes.

  
Arthur could feel the power rising. He heard Morgana’s gasp, barely seeing her out of the corner of his eye. She dropped her sword; Gwen caught her but kept her grip on her sword. Morgana was staring at Merlin in awe. More and more power pressed into him, around him. Merlin was terrifying in his brilliance as he harnessed the energy from the very earth. Blue and gold laced around his arms and hands, spreading slowly over the circle. Arcs of lightening danced, dazzling the eye, lifting the short hairs on the back of his neck.

  
Merlin’s chant reached its crescendo. The boom of magic threw them to the ground.

  
The sun was in a different position when Arthur blinked into awareness, slowly taking inventory of his body. Nothing hurt except his ass where he had fallen. Curling up onto one hip, then to all fours, he dragged himself to Merlin’s out flung body. He gently patted his cheek, cupping it in the palm of his hand, thumbing the smooth line of cheekbone and skin. “Merlin? Wake up, Merlin.”

  
No response but he knew the idiot was alive because his breathing was deep and even. Arthur knew nothing of magic but he thought that all that power must have taken its toll. Checking one last time to make sure Merlin wasn’t injured, he turned his attention to where he had last seen Morgana and Gwen. Gwen was starting to move, awakening and sitting up. “Gwen, you all right?”

  
It took her a moment but she nodded. She spied Morgana, moving slowly to her lady’s side.

  
“Is she all right?” He couldn’t tell from here but Morgana looked like she was in one piece as well. Gwen confirmed it by nodding.

  
Now knowing they were fine, he turned back to Merlin. It took forever and quite a bit of gentle and not so gentle coaxing but Merlin finally stirred. Black lashes fluttered like a girl’s, irresistibly drawing Arthur’s eyes to the jeweled blue eyes, still tinted with gold, blinking open. They were unfocused and he was obviously still groggy. His hand shook as he massaged his temple. “Arthur? What happened?”

  
“You’re asking me? You’re the great and powerful wizard.” Arthur had to tear his eyes away from Merlin’s, resisting the urge to take over the massage. He helped Merlin sit up. He did a quick, visual scan, again not seeing any injury, but didn’t dare use his hands. “Are you all right?”

  
Merlin waved him away. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  
“Your highness?”

  
He turned at Gwen’s voice. She was moving slowly towards them, still holding onto Morgana, who looked almost as wrecked as Merlin, and was pointing behind him with her sword. Arthur jumped to his feet, grabbing his sword, swinging it up in ready. He stopped short at the sight that greeted him. He could feel Merlin and the girls moving to stand next to him but he couldn’t quite tear his eyes away.

  
Arthur stared at the five scattered bodies. Four men and a woman. None of them victims of their murderer. None of them having been there before the spell. All of them of them unconscious, all of them wearing little to nothing except for the silver-tinted dark haired man. The goateed man wore both shirt and breeches, but nothing like Arthur had ever seen. Another dark haired man curled protectively around a slim, younger man, both naked. A black man, muscles defined even in sleep, markings littering his skin, had his modesty intact with a strange loincloth. The woman, beautifully dark, but unlike the ethereal Morgana, she was classically lovely. She wore a tunic, barely covering her from shoulder to thigh, leaving long legs bare.

  
“Merlin?” The silence was finally broken by Arthur’s dryly unasked question.

  
“I don’t know what went wrong!” Merlin grabbed the magic book, was frantically rereading, looking up at each ingredient, checking twice. “Everything’s right! Gaius looked over everything to make sure!”

  
“Maybe you pronounced something wrong?” Gwen offered. Morgana chuckled quietly.

  
Merlin gave them both a less scathing glare than he would have given Arthur, quickly turning back to the book, muttering under his breath.

  
Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, waving his other hand towards the nearly naked people. “Could you at least cover them up?”

  
Apparently Merlin could. Blankets appeared over the scattered bodies.

  
“What the hell?”

  
Arthur stepped between his friends and the newcomers, sword in hand. The black man was stirring, as were the dark haired ones. The black man sat up first, eyes landing on the male couple, recognition warred with confusion.

  
“Fuck, Hotch?” The black man stood, the blanket falling unheeded. “What the hell happened?”

  
“I don’t know.” The man called Hotch was gently touching his lover, capable looking hands searching for injuries before cupping the other man’s face. “Spencer? Spencer, wake up,” he softly encouraged, thumb caressing a high cheekbone.

  
“Aaron?” The younger man shifted into his touch, long fingered hands that reminded Arthur of Merlin’s emerged from under the blanket to latch onto his lover. “What happened? Where are we?”

  
“Prentiss?” The black man was up and moving when he spotted the woman, voice and body tense with worry, dropping to his knees beside her. She moaned, hands going reflexively to her head. “Emily? C’mon, girl, open your beautiful eyes and look at me,” he coaxed.

  
“Morgan?”

  
“Right here, gorgeous, right here.” He helped her to sit, carefully checking her over for injury as well. His eyes darted to the two men, relaxing when he saw that they were both all right. He froze again when he saw the last man. “Rossi?” He turned back to the woman. “You going to be okay? I need to check on Rossi.”

  
She waved him away, gathering her blanket to herself before staggering to the two men. “Hotch? Reid?”

  
“Prentiss.” Hotch reached for her, helping her to sit beside them. “Is your head as bad as mine?”

  
She playfully groaned. “Worse.”

  
“Rossi, hey man, take it easy.” Morgan was helping the man called Rossi sit up.

  
“Morgan, what the hell happened?” The older man clutched his head as well, lurching to his feet as Morgan led them to the other three.

  
It was obvious the five people knew each other. The way they immediately checked each other for injury, not even looking to themselves first. The way they gathered together in a knot, each facing a slightly different direction, able to see if trouble was coming up behind their friend’s back. This all spoke of camaraderie if not solid friendship or even closer ties. It was the one called Hotch that spotted them. He rose, one hand on the younger man’s shoulder, the other loosely clutching the blanket around his hips.

  
“Who are you? Did you bring us here?”

  
Arthur nodded, stepping forward, keeping his sword where they could see it. They were all starting to rise. Rossi and Morgan took no notice of their unclothed state, busy studying him and the others, clearly assessing the threat level. The younger man and woman wrapped themselves in the blankets, but the woman kept one hand free and looked as if she was ready and willing to drop the cloth at any second. “My name is Arthur Pendragon. You’re in the kingdom of Camelot.”

* * *

### Chapter Three

  
“Arthur Pendragon?” Morgan echoed. “Like King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, King Arthur?”

  
Arthur stiffened. “That’s treasonous. My father is king.”

  
The man completely ignored him, turning instead to his companions. “I thought he was a fictional character?”

  
Arthur glared. He was right there. Obviously he wasn’t fictional. Merlin chuckled, Arthur turned his glare onto him but the suicidal idiot merely grinned wider.

  
“The historical basis for the King Arthur legend has long been debated by scholars. One school of thought, citing entries in the _Historia Brittonum_ and the _Annales Cambriae_, states that Arthur was a genuine historical figure, a Romano-British leader who fought against the invading Anglo-Saxons sometime in the late fifth to early sixth century.” The youngest of them was saying, gesturing with one hand. His friends were clearly paying attention without taking their eyes off Arthur. “The _Historia Brittonum_\--”

  
“Spencer.” The young man subsided with that simple word from his older lover. That man was clearly the leader, exuding the same aura of power as Arthur’s father. “My name is Aaron Hotchner. This is part of my team. Where are the other two?”

  
Arthur shook his head. “Who you see in the circle are the only ones Merlin brought forth.”

  
“Merlin?” the woman exclaimed, eyes instantly landing on the correct person. She grinned at him, waving her hand.

  
Merlin grinned at her, waving back. Arthur clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword. Wonderful, another one.

  
“So no blonde women?” Hotchner asked, indicating the rest of them. “Just us?”

  
“Yes,” Merlin answered, stepping forth. “Although, something must have gone wrong because I didn’t intend to bring you here.”

  
“What did you intend?” Hotchner’s eyes were narrowed and he was stepping out from behind the woman and younger man. He placed himself squarely between them and Arthur. Morgan joined him at the shoulder.

  
Arthur could see the dynamics. Hotchner was the leader, brawny enough to hold his own. Morgan though, was heavily muscled, aggression leaking from him. He was clearly a guard, a knight or some kind of enforcer for the other man. Perhaps the older dark haired man was Hotchner’s father, the woman his sister? The younger man bore no resemblance to anyone in the party and was clearly Hotchner’s lover. Arthur briefly wondered how Hotchner was able to keep the respect of his guard and family when he openly had a male lover.

  
It was also strange that they seemed more interested in why they were brought here than _how_ they were brought here. Did their world have magic as well? More prevalent than even in Camelot? They seemed to adjust well to the knowledge they had been magically brought to another place.

  
“A murderer has been terrorizing Camelot,” Merlin answered; Arthur was content to letting him speak for them all. He wanted to be ready in case things turned ugly. “I cast a spell to bring the spirit of his latest victim to us, to ask him questions about his killer.”

  
“What were the words of the spell?” Hotchner’s lover, only a few years older than Arthur, was stumbling forward, struggling with his makeshift cover and brushing longish brown hair out of his face. He was very eager, easily evading Hotchner’s restraining hand as he made his way towards Merlin.

  
“Are you a sorcerer?” Merlin asked, flipping the book open. He sounded eager to talk to the other man. Arthur realized Merlin had no one to talk to about his powers, other than Gaius, for a very long time. Arthur had his knights, all sharing in his passion for tournaments and sword skills. Merlin had no one their own age interested in magic. Or at least, no one who was openly interested in magic. And he and Morgana had not talked openly about their powers until a few days ago.

  
“No,” he answered, shaking his head, smile still bright and curious. “I’m just interested.”

  
“Oh, here, let me show you!” Merlin easily evaded Arthur’s hand, jumping into the circle and towards the other man, book outstretched.

  
“Merlin!”

  
“What?” Merlin spared him one irritated glare before pointing out the spell to his new friend.

  
Arthur consoled himself that he wasn’t the only one aggravated. Hotchner wasn’t looking pleased at all either as the two men conferred in mutters and half utterances.

  
“Oh, I think that’s your problem.”

  
Merlin blinked at the other man. “What problem, Sir--”

  
“Oh, uh, Spencer. Spencer Reid.” Reid smiled shyly, finger tapping at something on the page. “If I understand what you’re saying, then we are what you asked for.”

  
“You are?” Merlin’s look was doubtful. “You were one of the murderer’s victims?”

  
Reid shook his head, smile widening as he indicated his friends. “The spells asks for help. It doesn’t specifically say it will bring you the spirit of a victim. It brings forth help to uncover the truth.” Merlin was nodding as the other man spoke. Reid grinned suddenly. “We’re the help. We specialize in stopping serial killers.”

  
“Serial killers?” Merlin tilted his head.

  
Reid nodded his, hand doing this strange fluttering thing. As if talking involved his fingers just as much as his mouth. “A serial killer is a person who murders three or more people over an extended period of time. Usually with the same modus operandi.”

  
“Mode of operation?” Morgana translated the Latin, entering the conversation for the first time. Her eyes were clear for the first time in quite a while as she smiled at the other man. Reid’s lover did not look none too pleased at her interest in Reid.

  
“Yes.” Reid bobbed his head, his hair brushing his chin with the movement. He offered her a shy smile. “Serial killers usually have some kind of ritual, some kind of characteristic patterns or styles of committing the murders.”

  
Merlin and Morgana both pounced on that.

  
“Yes! The killer takes the right hand of the men he kills,” Merlin explained.

  
“Trophies,” Reid murmured, half explaining, half to himself. “He’s taking trophies. Would it be possible to see--”

  
“Whoa, whoa! Reid!” Morgan waved his hands, catching his friend’s attention. “So you honestly think we’re in medieval England and these guys are really King Arthur and Merlin the magician?”

  
“Prince Arthur,” Arthur growled. He didn’t like the way Morgan kept calling him the king. It rankled in a way that hurt.

  
Merlin blinked. “You know who I am?” He, of course, was absurdly pleased.

  
Morgan spared them both a single, almost dismissive glance. “Sure, man, whatever. Reid?”

  
Reid rolled his eyes. “Morgan, we all went to bed last night in Washington D.C. and woke up here.” He waved his hand. “In a forest full of rowan trees, which are native to England, and are definitely not found in the United States.”

  
“We could have just been kidnapped,” Morgan pointed out.

  
“For what reason?” Reid batted his hand at the other man’s words, as if pushing aside the objection. “Rossi’s the only one with money--”

  
Rossi, the man closer to Uther’s age, coughed, eyes clearly darting to Hotchner, who stood completely impassive, watching his lover debate with his guard.

  
Reid rolled his eyes again. “Okay, well, Rossi’s the only one with money and fame so would-be kidnappers would go for him first. And Prentiss’ parents are important people but why take the rest of us? Actually, if kidnapping for ransom was the only motive, why take _all_ of us?”

  
“He has a point, Morgan,” Rossi agreed.

  
Morgan grumbled then eyed Merlin. “So we weren’t kidnapped for ransom. Fine. But do you really believe we were brought back in time by magic?”

  
“Okay, that I agree with Morgan.” Rossi mimicked Morgan’s pose, arms crossed their chests, both eyeing Merlin. “It is a little farfetched.”

  
All of his friends gave him incredulous looks.

  
“Okay,” Rossi admitted, expression totally abashed, hand waving in pseudo-surrender. “It’s not as farfetched as the concept was a few months ago, but how do we really know we weren’t drugged and kidnapped?” Reid opened his mouth, Rossi held up his hand. “For some other reason than ransom. Like say revenge for a killer we’ve caught in the past?”

  
The others looked chagrined at that, having no answers. Instead, they looked at Merlin.

  
Merlin, the idiot, was clearly affronted because his eyes were flashing again. “Pick something,” he demanded.

  
Rossi and Morgan both opened their mouths but the woman called Prentiss spoke first. “A dozen roses, a third blue, a third white, a third burgundy.”

  
Arthur gapped at the woman. He had never even seen a blue or burgundy rose, never heard of such things. But apparently Merlin did not care. A golden flash and twelve white roses appeared before every woman in the glade. Morgana and Gwen gasped with surprise and laughter, reaching for them.

  
Prentiss merely crossed her arms, seemingly unsurprised by the sudden appearance of roses. The men in her party reacted with varying levels of acceptance of Merlin’s magic. Reid smiled at Merlin, Hotchner looked at the roses in bemusement. Morgan and Rossi grudgingly nodded.

  
Prentiss raised her dark brows at Merlin. “Not quite right,” she teased.

  
Merlin rolled his eyes but was grinning as he flicked his fingers. Blue slowly mixed with the white, turning a third of the roses as blue as his own eyes. Purple and red warred before melding in another third of the roses, leaving only four roses their original pure white. Merlin raised a brow as if saying ‘well?’

  
Prentiss finally grinned in delight as she took the thornless roses. She turned to her friends even as she inhaled the fragrance of the flowers. “I’m convinced.”

  
Reid grinned as well, taking his turn at smelling the roses. “Me too.” He peeked at his lover through the veil of his golden brown hair. “Hotch?”

  
Hotchner huffed and laugh, holding up one hand in surrender. “Me three.”

  
They all turned to Morgan and Rossi. Morgan held up both hands in surrender, Rossi grumpily nodded.

  
“Does this mean you’ll help us?” Gwen asked, stepping closer to them, Morgana following.

  
They all turned to Hotchner but the man frowned.

  
“We’re missing,” he pointed out.

  
“You’re right here, you’re not missing.” Arthur felt compelled to point out.

  
Hotchner gave him an unimpressed look. “We’re missing from our homes, taken in the dead of night.” There was an expression on his face, as if the enormity of being transported away from their home, the impact, was suddenly making itself clear. “Dear God, Jack.”

  
Reid jerked, rushing to his lover. “Oh God, he’s alone.”

  
That caused a frenzy. All five of them were moving towards Merlin en masse. Arthur jumped between them even as Merlin flinched away.

  
“Who is Jack?” Arthur demanded, loudly, capturing their attention.

  
Hotchner’s fists were clenched, his eyes boring into Arthur before transferring to Merlin. “Our five year old son. He’s at our home, alone.”

  
Arthur blinked. All right, this was not good.

  
“Please,” Reid was darting around Arthur before he could stop him. He jerked to a stop in front of Merlin, unlike his angry lover, Reid’s eyes were frantic but not outraged. “Please, you have to send one of us back. Me or Hotch, it doesn’t matter. Jack’s too little to be left alone. Merlin, please.” The man pleaded as if he had been left alone when young and still remembered the terror of being abandoned.

  
“I --” Merlin looked a little bit frantic himself, stepping closer to Arthur, curling his hand around Arthur’s arm. Arthur melted and fortified at the pleading look in those blue eyes.

  
“Merlin, can you send one of them home?” he asked gently.

  
“I . . . I don’t think I can.” His eyes were wide and troubled as he nearly whispered his confession.

  
“What?” many of them exploded.

  
“C’mon, man, aren’t you supposed to be a powerful wizard or something?” Morgan goaded.

  
“I used a lot of power bringing you here,” Merlin hastened to explain, hands outstretch, pleading for understanding. “I was unconscious after I performed the spell.”

  
“He was,” Gwen confirmed, nodding to Morgana, Arthur, and herself as well. “We all were.”

  
“Merlin used energy he harvested from us for the spell,” Morgana clarified.

  
Merlin eagerly nodded.

  
“But the roses--” Rossi started to protest.

  
Merlin waved the protestation away. “That was nothing. A summoning spell for a simple object. It takes no power for me at all to do that spell. Bringing five people from another time.” He helplessly shrugged as he trailed off. “I’m so sorry.”

  
“No.” Hotchner growled. “I’m sorry isn’t good enough. My son is by himself in large house outside of the city. It was Friday night when you took us. Unless a case comes up no one is going to think to check up on us.”

  
“Dawn wasn’t set to babysit for you at all this weekend?” Rossi turned to Hotchner, who shook his head.

  
“Unless a case comes up she wasn’t supposed to, no.” Hotchner held himself with a stillness that was unnerving. “She and Sean were supposed to have a romantic getaway this weekend.”

  
Rossi wiped his hand over his face. “Buffy’s in New York this weekend, visiting Willow.”

  
“And Xander and Anya have no reason to check up on any of us.” Reid was staring off into woods, long fingered hands clenching and knotting. Hotchner stopped the nervous gestures by taking Reid’s hands into his own. Reid turned huge eyes up at his lover. “Aaron, what are we going to do?”

  
“I could try,” Merlin suddenly volunteered, eyes glued to Hotchner and Reid’s hands. His expression was determined, as were his hands, clenched in the book of sorcery. “I could try again in a few hours.”

  
Hotchner opened his mouth.

  
An explosion filled the clearing, knocking everyone onto their asses.

* * *

### Chapter Four

  
Arthur stared at the black haired, black eyed woman literally floating towards him. A sorceress. He raised his sword at her but it was knocked out of his hand by an invisible force.

  
“Arthur!” Merlin’s panicked voice caught those black eyes.

  
A huge tree ripped from the ground, soaring through the air at the woman. She easily blocked it, sending it right back at Merlin. It burst into flames before it could reach him. White black lightening flashed towards Merlin. Arthur screamed; Merlin barely had enough warning to shield himself. The blue gold shield deflected the constant stream of lightening the woman rained upon him. Arthur had no idea how long Merlin could keep the shield up. He grabbed his sword, seeing her distraction as his only chance.

  
“No!” Morgan tackled him.

  
Arthur kicked him off. “Let go, you bastard, she’s going to kill him!”

  
“No, she’s not!” Morgan grabbed at his legs, his sword arm. “Look!”

  
Arthur turned just in time to see Rossi jumping at the woman, yelling, “Willow, no! Stop! He’s a friend!”

  
Miraculously, she stopped. While she stared at Rossi, Arthur fought his way free. Morgana and Gwen had just reached Merlin’s slumped body.

  
“Merlin!” Arthur pulled him into his arms, cradling him against his chest as the girls surrounded them. “Merlin,” he called more gently, patting his ashen cheek.

  
“No more magic today,” he whispered to their relief. His eyes fluttered opened, even more tired and unfocused than they had been before.

  
Arthur smiled, shifting Merlin into his arms into a more comfortable position for them both. “No. No more magic today. You’re just going to have to polish my armor the old fashioned way.”

  
Merlin snorted, closing his eyes and laying his head against Arthur’s shoulder. Assuring himself Merlin was merely resting, Arthur turned his attention to the woman and Rossi.

  
“Willow, it’s okay, they’re friends,” Rossi was saying.

  
“If they’re friends, how come he was all with the attack of the killer tree?” She wasn’t floating anymore. And her hair was now a vibrant red instead of the pitch black. Her eyes were still dark though. Not even the whites of her eyes could be seen. It was unnerving. Merlin’s eyes flashed gold but only in the colored parts, not his entire eye. Arthur much preferred Merlin’s manifestation of power.

  
“He probably thought you were an enemy, Willow.” Rossi gave her a rueful grin. “What would you have done if someone just popped into existence right before your eyes, knocking you down in the process?”

  
She nodded, surprisingly sweet as she agreed. “The dark Willow look didn’t help either, huh?”

  
“No, sweetheart, it didn’t.” Rossi was smiling now. It was obvious they knew each other. The way they talked to each other reminded Arthur of how Gaius treated Morgana and Gwen – like beloved nieces. “How did you find us?”

  
“Oh!” The woman, Willow, if Arthur had heard Rossi correctly, lit up. “Buffy had me put a locator spell on you and the others.” She waved to the others, who all smiled and waved back. “If you go missing, I can find you.”

  
“Willow,” Hotchner, joined her and Rossi, turning her with hands cupped around her shoulders, face still tense with worry. “You need to get back. Jack’s by himself at the house.”

  
Willow smiled brilliantly. She was a lovely girl now that the darkness had gone away. “Actually, he’s with JJ.” She patted his hand as Hotchner slumped in relief. Reid slipped into his lover’s arms, clearly relieved as well. She turned back to Rossi, giving them a modicum of privacy. “Buffy called you this morning to let you know she was going to be staying with me for a little bit longer but when you didn’t answer your phone she called JJ. She and Will went to your house and found your wallet and phone. Then she called Hotch and Spencer but when they didn’t answer she called _everyone_ but only Penelope and Kevin answered.” Willow was practically bouncing now, talking faster and faster. “Everyone got to Hotch’s house in record time. I teleported there with Buffy too. Jack was curled up in this tiny little ball in Hotch and Spencer’s bed.” Her exuberance faded in memory of finding the child. “Poor kid, he had been crying his little eyes out. He jumped into Buffy’s arms as soon as he saw us.”

  
“He’s all right?” Hotchner asked urgently. The pain of hearing the condition in which his son was found weighed heavily on his face.

  
“Oh yeah, now.” Willow patted his hand again, she smiled reassuringly again. “He’s with JJ.”

  
Hotchner sighed, wiping his hand over his face.

  
“It’s not your fault,” Reid consoled, curling in close, trying to give solace with every touch, every word. “We were brought here. It’s not like you just forgot him.”

  
Hotchner nodded, doing some curling of his own, burying his face in Reid’s hair.

  
“Speaking of which,” Willow asked, briskly, turning everyone’s attention back to herself. “How and why are you here? And where’s here?”

  
“Arthurian England,” Prentiss answered, pointing over at Arthur and Merlin. “Merlin brought us to track down a serial killer in Camelot.”

  
Hearing his name roused Merlin enough for him to look for the source. Hearing the gasp, they all turned to Willow. She had her hands over her mouth, blue eyes, instead of black, now huge with awe.

  
“Merlin? _The_ Merlin?” She was reverently walking towards them, dropping to her knees a couple of feet away. She was staring at Merlin as if he was the most wondrous thing ever. Great, another one.

  
Merlin smiled wanly at her. “Uh, hello.”

  
“Hi!” She smiled brightly but it quickly faded, contrition taking its place. “Oh my goddess, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I attacked you like that! I don’t know what I was thinking? Attacking you like that!”

  
“No, no.” Merlin struggled to sit. Arthur helped him up but he seemed content to stay within the circle of his arms even as he reached out to take her wringing hands. “I attacked you first. You were just defending yourself.”

  
“I . . . well, thank you, that’s really nice of you, but I’m never going to forgive myself for jumping you like that!” She looked utterly relieved, then utterly remorseful as she sighed. “Oh, Giles is never going to let me hear the end of it.”

  
Her friends laughed and snickered. Willow flashed them a brief smile over her shoulder. She turned back to Merlin. “So, uh, you brought them here to catch a serial killer?”

  
Merlin nodded. “Yeah, uh.” He pointed to Morgana. “Morgana’s a seer. She saw the murderer killing Arthur.” Arthur was bemused to feel Merlin petting his arm. The one he still had encircling Merlin’s waist. He tried inching away but froze when he saw both Morgana and Gwen’s amused smiles.

  
“Okay, yeah, that would be bad.” She emphasized the last word before grinning. But then she turned confused eyes on Morgana. She opened her mouth to say something but seemed to change her mind at the very last moment. “Well, you got the best team for the job. They’re incredible at what they do. They’ll catch him for you.”

  
Morgan scoffed. “Without forensic evidence and Garcia’s databases, I’m not so sure about that.”

  
Willow scoffed right back at him, clear in her confidence in them, but the others looked thoughtful. Arthur hoped he was wrong. Merlin spent a lot of time and power bringing them here. And men were still dying because of the crazed killer. They couldn’t afford more useless endeavors.

  
“Does this mean we’re staying,” Reid asked, turning to his lover but including all of them in his question. “If Jack is with JJ and Willow can tell everyone where we’re at?”

  
Again, they all looked to Hotchner.

  
“It’s Saturday morning?” he asked Willow, who nodded. “Director Strauss is going to be expecting us at work Monday morning.”

  
They collectively winced. It seemed whoever this Director Strauss was, he was not popular.

  
Willow waved her hand. “Let me take care of that. I can work my computer mojo and fix it so that you’re all on leave or something.” She grinned at them then at Merlin. “You guys help Merlin find the killer.”

  
Hotchner nodded, Prentiss and Reid gave tiny little cheers, and Morgan and Rossi merely smiled. Willow hugged them all, gushed over Merlin a little more, before stepping back quite a distance. Her eyes went black first, then her hair. Arthur felt the same kind of power growing as when Merlin had cast his spell. Arthur idly wondered if transporting one person back to their time and world was easier, used less power, then bringing five people to a place they didn’t belong. Her words were different but the surge of energy was the same. She vanished in the blink of an eye.

  
“All right,” Hotchner said rather decisively, “what now?”

* * *

Hours later, Merlin finally recovered from all of the power used that day. The nine of them shared the food originally intended for the picnic as Merlin rested. Not once did he bother to move from Arthur’s lap. Arthur was pretty sure this was the very definition of spoiling one’s servant. But as Morgana and Gwen did nothing more than smile at them both and the BAU, as they called themselves, didn’t even lift a brow at the situation, Arthur was fine with letting Merlin stay there. After all, if they were ever going to capture this killer, he was fairly sure they’d need Merlin at some point. That’s the way things just seemed to happen.

  
During that time, a story was created to explain the newcomers’ presence in Camelot and how they could aid in finding the murderer. Arthur found it interesting that they made up such a believable story so easily. It was as if they knew exactly what to say in order for his father to believe them. They had come up with the story after asking only a few questions about the king. He wondered if this skill was the reason why the spell brought them to Camelot.

  
After the story-making and resting, Merlin magicked them appropriate clothing and a horse drawn wagon. Arthur had been thoroughly aghast to learn that only two of them rode, Hotchner and Lady Emily. Reid, the one with seemingly unlimited amounts of information in his head, said that where they came from, they used mechanical modes of transportation. Like a carriage, only metal. Morgan had objected to telling them that, even though Arthur could not think of anything more stifling and uncomfortable. Morgan said something about disrupting the timeline. Reid had rolled his eyes and said the space/time continuum was safe as Arthurian people did not have the technology or even the thought process to make cars possible in this time. Whatever that meant.

  
The journey back to Camelot was filled with conversation. Lady Emily, Arthur refused to call her by her family name the way her male compatriots seemed so wont to do, Morgana and Gwen were fascinated by each other. They learned that in her time, Lady Emily fought side by side with the men. She was known as something called an FBI agent, an officer of the law. She had been trained to solve crimes and that she was not unique in her position. Morgana had glared at him as if it was his fault she had been born in a time where women were supposed to be helpless and not blood thirsty savages like herself.

  
Meanwhile, Merlin and Reid would not . . . stop . . . talking. They covered every subject under the sun. Merlin’s life before and at Camelot. Family and friends, his search to control his powers. The politics and laws that currently governed their land. Reid’s life with the same law enforcement agency as Lady Emily, his vast and varied education, the advancements of science that made real magic seem fictional, and the historical inaccuracies surrounding Camelot. Hotchner, Rossi, and Morgan were content to sit back and listen to the others, occasionally interjecting.

  
Arthur decided that even though he was not happy with Merlin’s attention being so utterly focused on the other man, that it was his duty to at least attempt civil conversation with the people who had agreed to help them find Camelot’s killer. He pulled up beside Hotchner, who was holding the reins, having quickly learned the skills necessary to drive a pair of horses. “You’re the leader?”

  
Hotchner nodded, a friendly enough expression on his face, now that his worries about his son had been erased. “Yes, I am.”

  
“So you have the most skill? The most expertise?” While Arthur did want to know, it felt awkward making conversation with this man from the future. But it seemed rude to ignore any of them when Merlin and the girls were behaving as perfect hosts.

  
Hotchner surprisingly smiled as he shook his head. Rossi was smirking, Morgan had snorted from the back of the wagon which he shared with Lady Emily and Reid.

  
“Ah, no.” Hotchner tilted his head towards Rossi. “He has the most experience.” Then he smiled indulgently at Reid before turning his attention back to the road. “And Reid has the highest IQ.”

  
“IQ?”

  
“A measure of intelligence,” Rossi explained. “Reid can read twenty thousand words per minute and has an eidetic memory. He’s able to recall images, sounds, or objects in memory with extreme accuracy.” He laughed ruefully. “Reid is literally able to remember everything he’s ever heard or seen.”

  
Arthur stared at the other man, still so animatedly talking to Merlin. To be able to read that quickly, to be able to remember everything he’d ever learned, was incredible. Even the best scholars of the court needed their books to reference on occasion. “And you, sir, you have the most experience in dealing with murderers?”

  
“Yes.” He seemed both sad and proud of the fact. “I’ve worked cases for over twenty years now.”

  
“Did you find every killer?” Twenty years was nearly all of Arthur’s life. This man had been hunting murderers for that long and to have survived without a single injury. It was quite amazing.

  
Rossi winced. “Almost.”

  
All right, that was reasonable. Better than boastful with a perfect record, only to disappoint later. But that still didn’t answer Arthur’s original question. He turned to Hotchner again. “Then why are you leader? Why not Rossi? Or even Reid?”

  
Morgan snorted again, the sound turning into laughter. “Reid? Team leader?” He laughed even harder, not even caring when Lady Emily glared at him and punched him in the shoulder. Reid gave him one slightly scathing, mostly amused, look before turning back to Merlin and Morgana.

  
Hotchner shook his head at their antics but finally answered the question. “In our society, skill and experience do count for leadership but, as I’m sure you know, leadership is not defined by those alone.”

  
Arthur nodded. There were knights with more experience than he, knights with some kind of skill more than he, but he was the crowned prince. He led by right of birth. “Ah, so your father was king?”

  
Hotchner huffed a breath. “No. We have very few monarchies left in our world.”

  
Now that was a surprising bit of information.

  
“Hotch leads the team because he’s the best suited for the job,” Morgan interjected. “He’s the best one to deal with the politics of our superiors while understanding what we need to do our job.”

  
“Morgan, I’m impressed, that was profound.” Hotchner grinned over his shoulder.

  
“You know I can totally do profound.” Morgan puffed up a bit but the twinkle in his eye betrayed his amusement.

  
“Hotch’s the only one who can manage these guys without resorting to violence.” Rossi pointed out, thumb jerking over his shoulder, smiling with unrepentant glee. “Have you ever tried to make five brilliant, independent, strong willed minds do something? It’s like corralling rabid cats.”

  
“Five?”

  
“Yes, the two women I was asking for earlier,” Hotchner explained. “JJ is our media liaison. She is the one with whom people petition for our services and smoothes our way with local law enforcement. Penelope Garcia is the one who collects and analyzes all vital information for us.”

  
“Ah.” Well, that made sense. Sort of. “If they have those positions, Rossi and Reid have experience and knowledge, and you are the leader, why do you need Morgan and Lady Emily?”

  
“Hey!” Morgan jerked upright. “We bring our own expertise to the table, man. I specialize in obsessive crimes and profiling serial arsonists and bombers.” He waved to Lady Emily was still engrossed in conversation, this time with Merlin and Reid. “Prentiss speaks like nine hundred languages--”

  
“Four, actually,” she corrected without missing a beat of her own conversation.

  
“One of them being the language spoken by the largest group of terrorists in our world. She knows cultures and understands them from living with them. All of which is applicable to our jobs.” Morgan argued. “We totally hold our own here.”

  
“Down, Morgan.” Hotchner was grinning again. “We already know this. His highness was just asking a question.”

  
Arthur nodded once, surprised by the other man’s outburst, but kept silent as he did not want to further offend the man. Especially if they were going to help Camelot rid itself of a killer. The conversation had been enlightening, even if several of the terms used were unfamiliar. He now knew enough about them to somewhat understand why Merlin’s spell had brought them here. But, he suspected, he wouldn’t fully understand until he could watch them work.

  
Hotchner pulled the wagon horses to a stop before the gates of Camelot. Arthur lifted his head from his thoughts to ask why but stopped when he saw the awed expressions on their faces. He straightened with quite a bit of pride in his home. Yes, they may come from an incredible time filled with marvels and wonders, but very little could overshadow the beauty and splendor that was Camelot.

  
Arthur nudged his horse forward when he saw the multitude of knights and guards coming fast towards them. Of course someone would have tattled on them, the nobles’ favorite form of currying favor with his father, right after flattery. “Come. It’s time to meet the king.”

* * *

### Chapter Five

  
Arthur refused to look anywhere but at his father, feeling Morgana striding by his side. Merlin and Gwen were safely absconded off in a corner, out of the king’s line of sight. Brilliant move on their part as Uther looked absolutely thunderous. He and Morgana would have been severely lectured for leaving the rest of the party, not called in front of the throne, if it hadn’t been for another killing while they had been separated from the retinue of guards. It mattered not that the man had been murdered inside Camelot and nowhere near the picnickers, but it was clear from his father’s expression, pointing that out would only earn him stripes from the lash.

  
Behind them, Hotchner and his people exuded such a calm confidence that it bolstered Arthur’s nerves. He bowed, hand held out, unnecessarily but etiquette-required, to steady Morgana, as she sank into a deep curtsey before the throne.

  
“Where have you been?” Uther nearly roared, surging to his feet. The craggy lines of his father’s face were hardened lines of barely leashed anger, worry, fury.

  
Arthur felt the guilt well but it had to be done. To protect Morgana, to protect Merlin. To protect them all. His father was a just and righteous king except when it came to magic. “Your majesty,” he did not outright ask for forgiveness, that would be for another, more private time, “we thought it best that as few people as possible were involved.”

  
That stopped his father short. “Involved in what?” Uther’s blue eyes, mirrors of Arthur’s own, took in their visitors. “Arthur? Morgana?”

  
“Your majesty,” Morgana stepped forward, sweeping a graceful hand behind her. “We brought help.”

  
Uther remained silent, still tense, still obviously angry, as he studied the BAU people. He saw four men and one woman. Lady Emily he dismissed almost out of hand, focusing on the men instead. He took in the clothing Merlin had procured for them, seeing material of worth if not richness, clothing of high ranking advisors and scholars but not of the noble class. He saw how they held themselves. Hotchner with an air of quiet, unwavering confidence, Rossi with his more direct stare, and Morgan with his forward motion of aggressiveness. Uther took in Reid’s youthful, gangly appearance and wide, all consuming, curious eyes, and dismissed him as a mere scholar or scholar’s apprentice. “Welcome to Camelot,” he finally intoned.

  
Arthur felt the tension slowly unknot. “Your majesty, may we present Sir Aaron Hotchner, of the Frankish kingdom.”

  
Whispers exploded from all sides of the court, courtiers and servants alike were torn between moving closer for a better look and away in fear of these strange new people. Camelot’s court had never been graced with the presence of visitors from such faraway lands before. Arthur mentally snorted. Far away indeed, in this case, across an entire ocean from what Reid had said.

  
“Welcome, Sir Aaron,” Uther was even more interested now. “My son says you are here to help us?”

  
Hotchner stepped forward, sweeping into a low bow that was a nearly perfect replica of Arthur’s. “Yes, your majesty.” More whispers, surprise on Uther’s face, the different accent clearly marked him as a foreigner. “My colleagues and I specialize in hunting murderers.”

  
The volume grew even more, people shuffled closer.

  
“And, how,” Uther leaned forward too nonchalantly, “did you hear about our little problem all the way in Frankland?”

  
“That would be my doing, sire.” Morgana curtsied low again, face a picture of contrition. “I wrote to Lady Philomena of our problems.”

  
Uther’s brow furrowed in remembrance. “Your mother’s friend?”

  
“Yes, sire. She traveled with her brother to Frankland and married a Frankish nobleman but we still correspond.” Morgana’s lies rolled so smoothly off her tongue Merlin should be taking lessons. Arthur mentally winced; she was so good, he should be taking lessons too.

  
“The Lady Philomena and her husband are great friends of our king,” Hotchner took up the story effortlessly. “His majesty, King Chlodio, has great respect for you, your majesty. He respects Camelot as a progressive kingdom, relying on science, rather than magic.” It was flattery that was unpretentious, stated as mere fact than sycophancy. Hotchner chose his words carefully, his tone even more so. He was able to compliment in such a way that the king found it easier to swallow than the more flowery kind. He was more believable. “His majesty wishes to extend his respects by sending us to help with this problem.”

  
“And how exactly will you be able to find a murderer that no one has seen.” Uther waved a hand to include everyone in the court. “Our knights and guards, my own son, cannot find this man. How will strangers be able to find this man?”

  
Rossi stepped forward. “We are scholars, your majesty, well versed in the study of crime from a behavioral perspective.” He looked away from the king, as if taking in the expressions of others and seeing confusion in them that prompted him to explain, “We detect and classify the personality and characteristics of people. We find patterns of behavior that can tell us about all people,” he indicated everyone in the room, “not just criminals.”

  
“And this will help you find the murderer?” Uther was still not convinced.

  
“We can look at the body of the victim and tell you if the murderer is left or right handed, how tall he is, how strong he is,” Morgan announced, staring down the clear skeptics in the throne room.

  
“Depending on the locations he left the bodies, what he left in those locations, how he left the bodies, we could even tell you more: his occupation, his hobbies.” Lady Emily drew attention, unlustful attention, for the first time as she stepped forward. Her easy acceptance of dead bodies shocked nearly everyone. It had been decided that for the ease of convenience, she would be Rossi’s daughter and Hotchner’s sister. A beautiful woman, unescorted, unprotected, even if she could ‘protect herself,’ was not a trivial matter. Her announcement, the fact that she dared to speak alongside her male companions, caused twittering. Everyone was used to Morgana’s outspokenness, but they were still shocked another woman would dare.

  
“But more importantly,” Reid jumped right in, dispelling the mousy scholar opinion most held. “We can tell you who he is,” he held up a flash of fingers to quiet any objections, “not his identity, not his name, but who he is. An angry man who easily loses his temper, a quiet man whom others avoid, a charming man who can persuade any person to follow him even when they know a murderer is active in the community.”

  
It was an impressive speech, one taking up where the other left off. Arthur could see they were a cohesive regiment. If they had been soldiers, they would have been the elite of the army. Arthur could see how impressive they were in the way his father’s skepticism was starting to waver.

  
“How?” Uther demanded, looking more and more interested in the newcomers.

  
“A demonstration, your majesty?” Hotchner smoothly offered.

  
The king nodded, watching carefully as Rossi stepped forward, smiling winningly at Lady Nessa. Rossi bowed before her, she curtsied with an uncertain air. “My lady, this necklace is new.” He gestured towards a ruby encrusted amulet.

  
Lady Nessa nodded, eyes darting towards the king and the friends surrounding her, then across the room.

  
Rossi smiled, projecting calm and reassurance, even as he turned to follow her line of sight. “It was given to you by someone close to you. Your betrothed, perhaps?”

  
Her eyes widened as she gasped. “My . . . my betrothed, Edward, yes. How did you know?”

  
“Yes,” Uther asked, his eyes narrowing. Arthur knew that look. The king was on the verge of accusing Rossi of sorcery.

  
Rossi merely smiled again, not worried in the least, as he addressed the king. “This lovely young lady is of aged to be married soon. This design is a love knot and the rubies form a rose pattern.” He gestured to the rose pinned in her hair and the rosettes embroidered on her dress. “He knows her favorite flower.”

  
She nodded in wonder, eyes darting to Sir Edward, where he stood with his own father. Her eyes had that glow of a woman in love.

  
“The young lady has been fiddling with it,” Rossi continued, “unused to wearing such a heavy piece of jewelry. Also, it doesn’t exactly match the rest of her jewelry but is similar in style, suggesting someone else had it designed and made with her in mind.”

  
Lady Nessa nodded eagerly at the king’s questioning look. “He is correct, your majesty. Sir Edward gifted me with this last night as part of our betrothal agreement.”

  
Rossi bowed to her again, spun on his heel and bowed to the king. “A simple demonstration, your majesty, one I hope proves our skills?”

  
Uther rested his chin on the heel of his hand, a single finger across his lips. Arthur felt his father’s gaze come to rest on him. “You believe them?”

  
Arthur nodded. “I would not have brought them before you otherwise, sire.”

  
Uther paused only a moment longer, eyes sweeping across Rossi and Hotchner. “And what sort of fee will you be asking for your service?”

  
“Merely rooms, meals, and a few changes of clothing,” Hotchner answered promptly. “As well as a chance to interview the murderer before he faces your judgment, your majesty.”

  
“An interview?” Uther looked intrigued and surprised by the request. “Why?”

  
“We are scholars, sire, only by interviewing him will we add to our knowledge to catch future criminals.” Hotchner looked appropriately humble as he explained but also anticipatory as a serious scholar would be and confident as only the most learned could be.

  
Uther nodded, but then tilted his head. “And the clothing?”

  
Hotchner gave him a rueful smile. “I’m afraid, your majesty, that we were ambushed before reaching Camelot.”

  
“Ah.” His father relaxed even more as he realized that only a group of academics would travel with no guard and be robbed. A group of sorcerers, especially five, would not have had this problem. All this reinforced the image Arthur, Morgana, and the BAU had endeavored to present before the suspicious king. Arthur nearly sighed with relief as his father ordered quarters and clothing be brought for their guests.

* * *

“So what do we need to do first?” Arthur asked, turning to Hotchner. They were all in Gaius’ workroom because it was away from prying ears and eyes and large enough to accommodate everyone somewhat comfortably. The old physician had been delighted to meet their guests when they were introduced as scholars, confused as to why the spell went slightly wrong, and stunned to find out that their guests were from the future. Unsurprisingly, Gaius had gravitated towards Rossi, the only one of the newcomers even close to his age.

  
“Tell us about the victims,” Hotchner asked, leaning back against one of Gaius’ workbenches. Seated at the table before him, Reid was poking about the numerous glass vials filled with potions and powders. Once in the room, once introduced to Gaius, the five of them had immediately taken seats around Gaius’ main work table. But Hotchner and Morgan immediately stood back up, offering their seats to Morgana and Gwen.

  
“What would you like to know?” Morgana had settled herself next to Gwen; Lady Emily joining them on the long bench.

  
“Who were the victims? Did they share anything in common?” Rossi clarified from his seat across from her.

  
“They were all men,” Arthur offered, leaning against Merlin as he idly flipped through his magic book again. “Strong men, able to protect themselves.”

  
“When were they attacked?” Morgan asked, sprawled on a smaller, lone bench under a window.

  
“All hours,” Gaius answered from the large seat that had been a winter gift from Uther, turning to Merlin for confirmation. “Their bodies were found all hours of the day and night. Some of the bodies were still warm, others cold to the touch.”

  
“Where were they attacked?” Reid spoke up but did not look up from his perusal of Gaius’ things.

  
“Some were found in their homes, others in alleyways and behind buildings.” Arthur answered this one as more than likely he, or one of his men, where in those locations minutes after the bodies had been discovered. “The locations were all over Camelot.”

  
“Did the victims have anything in common other than their missing right hands or their sex?” Reid asked, only realizing how blunt he was when Gaius and Arthur sent him scandalized looks. “Uh, sorry, about that,” he said to the women.

  
Morgana rolled her eyes. “Arthur’s a prude.”

  
“I am not!”

  
“Yeah, you are.” Merlin danced out of Arthur’s reach.

  
Arthur gave him a warning look before turning back to Reid to answer. “Not really.”

  
“So, no jobs in common, family, friends?” Morgan pushed, obviously not liking the implications in their negative answers.

  
“Not that my men or I found.”

  
“What about hobbies? Their interests?” Lady Emily tried but Arthur shook his head.

  
“Why would we ask questions like that?” he countered, perplexed as to why woodworking or hunting would be important in finding these men’s murderer.

  
Hotchner didn’t sigh exactly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re going to have to go back and re-interview _everyone_.”

  
“What would their hobbies have anything to do with their deaths?” Merlin asked, thankfully saving Arthur from having to.

  
“You’d be surprised,” Rossi stood, moving about the room but not exactly pacing, poking here and there at things. “The BAU has had cases where a murderer chose his victims because they all liked the same kind of car.” At their blank looks, he waved away the last word. “The same kind of horse or cart.”

  
“Really?” Gwen looked utterly flummoxed.

  
“Unfortunately, yes.” Rossi looked at her intently, sadness and wisdom in his dark gaze. “We’ve found that almost anything and everything can be important information in finding a killer.”

  
“So we have low risk victims, random times, and random locations,” Lady Emily summarized, face a little twisted as she eyed an empty section of the room as if expecting something to be there. “It feels weird not to have an evidence board. Or JJ. Or Garcia.”

  
All of her friends nodded absently.

  
“Do you still have access to the latest body?” Hotchner asked, breaking the silence.

  
Gaius nodded. “The family has not buried him yet.”

  
“May we see it?”

  
Arthur was taken aback by how eager Reid was to see the body. None of them seemed disturbed by the deaths either. They spoke of the victims in detached terms, spoke of the murderer without a hint of anger or horror. He wondered how many bodies they had seen, how many murderers they had faced, to be this matter of fact. He followed them as Gaius took them to the cool room where the latest victim was being kept. He stayed with Morgana and Gwen as they hovered at the door while Gaius and Merlin escorted the rest of the group into the room. Arthur shook his head at the fascinated expressions of the other two men as they watched the BAU people inspect the body.

  
Reid was leaning over the body, carefully examining the wounds before focusing his attention on the handless stub of the man’s arm. “Our unsub,” he glanced up, “uh, our killer, is left handed.”

  
“How do you know that?” Gaius asked, leaning over the same area as Reid.

  
“A cutting wound is deepest at the place where the cutting object was first applied,” Reid explained, showing Gaius and Merlin how a long shallow cut across the dead man’s chest.

  
“This wound’s deeper at the right end,” Merlin observed, nose damn near inside the wound, he was staring so close and hard. Arthur resisted the impulse to drag him away by his ridiculous neckerchief.

  
Reid nodded enthusiastically. “Left handed people will always make strokes from right to left.”

  
“Does that help?” Gwen asked. “Does knowing that help?”

  
Hotchner favored her with a gentle smile. “Only a tenth of the people in the world are left-handed.”

  
“That’s not very many,” Morgana sighed, tension Arthur hadn’t noticed before relaxing. As if seeing them work finally relieved her fears. Arthur had to admit they had discovered more information in the last half hour than they had these past months.

  
“But this could mean nothing, it’s possible for a person to be ambidextrous,” Lady Emily pointed out much to the consternation of her friends. She winked at Morgan and Reid. “It’s an overused TV trope for a reason.”

  
Morgan groaned, shaking his head. Reid grinned, nodding, going back to the body.

  
“TV trope?” Merlin asked.

  
“Ambidextrous?” Gaius echoed.

  
“Yes, Prentiss, as we all know, all left handers are psychopathic killers,” Hotchner murmured dryly.

  
Reid coughed, turning back to the body, but his body was silently shaking. Morgan and Rossi hid smiles, explaining the terms to the room in general.

  
Lady Emily blinked, then blinked again. “Wait, what?”

  
When no one answered, her eyes narrowed, studying Hotchner. She pinkened. “Oh.”

  
“What?” Arthur asked, unable to stop his curiosity.

  
Lady Emily blushed even harder as Hotchner grinned the tiniest of grins and waved his own left hand. “I’m left handed.”

  
“Ah.” Arthur turned back to watch Merlin speaking with Reid, fairly certain he wasn’t in a room with a murderer. Merlin had summoned Hotchner from the future after twelve men had died. Besides, the man didn’t look like a cold blooded killer.

  
Currently, the man was gazing at Lady Emily, who, after realizing her comical mistake, went back to studying the body. Hotchner must have seen something on her face. “Prentiss, what is it?”

  
That brought most attention to bear on her but instead of squirming, she merely shook her head. “There’s something familiar about these wounds.” Her finger traced the air above the long, ugly slashes up both legs and arms before moving to the one across the neck. The wounds started at wrist or ankle, splitting the man’s limbs cleanly open up to hip and shoulder. “I can’t place it though.”

  
Reid tilted his head. “All those cuts are designed to cut open the major arteries and veins in the human body.”

  
“Somebody who’s familiar with human anatomy?” Morgan offered.

  
Hotchner shook his head. “In this day and time, Gaius may be the only one in Camelot who has that knowledge.”

  
Gaius humphed. “Well, I certainly didn’t kill these men.”

  
“I don’t know, Gaius,” Merlin teased. “I’m pretty sure I saw him take that last apple you wanted.”

  
Gaius glared at his apprentice; everyone else hid smiles.

  
“Gaius, did you remove his clothing to examine his wounds?” Rossi asked from where he was leaning over the only other piece of furniture in the room, a little square table holding the victim’s clothing.

  
“No.” Gaius turned away from the body to frown at Rossi. “No, the body was brought to me this way.”

  
“We found most of the bodies either naked or nearly naked,” Arthur stepped in, finding the question intrusive and not understanding why it would be important but answering anyway. He was tired of Camelot’s men dying. He stared at Rossi, waiting for the other man to justify why the question had been asked.

  
Rossi didn’t answer. Instead, he exchanged word-filled glances with his friends.

  
“What is it?” Merlin asked, finally noticing the tension in the air. He turned first to Arthur, following his eyes to Rossi and Hotchner.

  
“We need to examine the body more closely,” Hotchner finally answered, his voice rather harsh and low. He turned his heavy gaze onto Arthur. “The ladies should leave.”

  
“Actually,” Reid interjected, hands twisting with themselves. “Everyone should probably leave.”

  
Morgana instantly objected, Merlin too. Gaius seemed to understand exactly what was going on and was tugging Merlin with him. Gwen was bewildered but trying to calm her lady.

  
Arthur stood his ground. “Why should we leave? What does that mean?”

  
Everyone stopped, staring at both him and Hotchner. The other man frowned before gentling his voice. “We believe the men have been violated. We need to examine the body to see if we’re right.”

  
The women immediately paled, clutching each other. Even with all of their skills and privilege, both of them feared one of the most heinous of crimes that could be leveled against a woman. Gaius’ white head dropped, his lips moving in a prayer. Merlin was wide-eyed, staring even more closely at the victim’s body. Arthur clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking. It should not have surprised him. He had heard of such things before. Armies on march towards battle, not having relief for their base urges, the rush of battle afterwards coming on strong and violent. Some men saw victory as their right to do whatever they pleased to whomever they pleased. Even to the youngest pages and squires. The Pendragons forbade their own armies from such atrocities but there had been always stories. Not bothering to ask them to explain their suspicions, he spun on his heel. “Come,” he ordered.

  
Morgana and Gwen followed immediately, Gaius more slowly, but Merlin didn’t move.

  
“Merlin!” Arthur did not want him witnessing this. Did not want to see what other horrors could be inflicted by their fellow man. He turned back, tugging at Merlin’s hand, not bothering to justify his manhandling. A warm, long fingered hand wrapped around his, bringing him short, bringing his eyes up to warm blue ones.

  
“I’d like to stay,” Merlin said quietly.

  
“Why?” Why would he want to see this? Why would he want to know more?

  
“To learn.” His voice was still quiet, still gentle, asking for understanding.

  
Arthur mentally sighed, turning to Gaius. “Will you stay with him?”

  
The old physician smiled, eager and obedient. It was obvious Merlin wasn’t the only one who wanted to learn. Arthur nodded to them both, striding out the door, closing it behind him. This was one thing he was content to never learn more of. The three of them waited in the corridor in silence. Morgana lightly held Gwen’s hand, their heads resting against each other’s, both staring at the door. Arthur could not keep his feet still, pacing back and forth, long coat swirling about his legs, sword flashing whenever it caught a ray of light. It took mere moments, but seemed like forever, before Merlin and Gaius emerged.

  
“Well?” he demanded, stepping close to Merlin, hand automatically going to the small of his sorcerer’s back.

  
Merlin’s eyes were sad as he eased closer, dropping his head onto Arthur’s shoulder. His voice wasn’t muffled at all. “He was violated. They think that the other men were as well.”

  
“But how do they know it wasn’t,” Morgana paused, a tiny pale rose on her cheeks, but her chin lifted. “How do they know the man didn’t have consensual relations with another man?”

  
Surprised she knew about such things, Arthur pulled Merlin out of the way for the BAU people to exit the room as well. Apparently, they were done with the body as Morgan closed the door before following the rest of his friends into the courtyard. Dusk was falling, less and less people were moving about, more and more guards appearing. Even though the bodies had been found all hours of the day, night was when people feared the most, and so Arthur had doubled the presence of the guards during the dark hours.

  
“There are certain ways of reading bruises that indicate consensual intercourse,” Lady Emily was quietly explaining, “but in this instance, we know that this man was raped using a foreign object.” She paused, grimacing. “One that left large splinters.”

  
Arthur winced. Merlin paled. Gaius shook his head. Morgana and Gwen shivered in distaste. The party pulled short, falling silent, as an out of breath page skidded to a stop before them.

  
“Your highness,” gasped the little boy even as he dropped a short, perfunctory bow, “his majesty wishes to dine with you, Lady Morgana, and our visitors. A small celebration of welcome.” The boy’s eyes stared in awe at the BAU, having of course, never meet a Frank in his short life.

  
Arthur nodded. “We’ll see him at dinner then.”

  
The boy rushed off. Or tried to but Hotchner stopped him.

  
“Actually, your highness,” Hotchner contradicted him, “we would like to focus on the murders.”

  
The boy smartly stepped away from the other man. Arthur turned his smile into a fearsome frown. His reputation preceded him. “So you don’t eat during your investigation?”

  
“We do.” Hotchner did not roll his eyes but Arthur felt it all the same. “But we normally don’t go to feasts or celebrations while we’re working.”

  
“We save them until after we catch the killer,” Morgan clarified, smiling at little.

  
Arthur nodded, understanding holding back celebration until the battle was won, but still he shook his head. “You need to make an exception.” He leveled a heavy stare onto Hotchner, knowing as long as this man agreed so too would his friends. “You can’t decline an invitation from the king.”

  
“You really should come to dinner.” Morgana stepped to his side; her expression was a little tense. About what Arthur couldn’t even begin to guess. She lowered her voice, darting a glance towards the page to make sure he was out of earshot. “King Uther is a suspicious man. Not only will he want to hear about whatever progress you’ve made but mingling with him and the nobles will allay any fears or suspicions he has towards you.”

  
The BAU people all exchanged glances before Hotchner nodded. “Dinner it is then.”

* * *

### Chapter Six

  
Arthur let the rigidity of his shoulders fall away as they finally quit the banquet hall. Dinner had passed without a single problem. It was the best of ordinary. Good food, good wine, people in high spirits, conversation about everything but the one thing no one wanted to talk about. Merlin attended him, keeping almost scandalously close but Arthur didn’t even want to tell him to keep away. He was more comfortable with Merlin in sight, at hand. He kept him close, speaking more to Merlin than to anyone else. Thankfully, his father was too busy to frown in disapproval.

  
Rossi and Hotchner kept his father occupied, telling him about Frankland and their king and how their select little band had been formed. Uther seemed pleased by the progress they had made just that afternoon. He did point out that many people were left handed but Hotchner had easily countered that they were merely starting and that interviews of the victim’s family, friends, and acquaintances were being scheduled by Arthur and his men. This seemed to appease his father and, by the relaxing of his shoulders, assured him of their sincerity of motive.

  
Morgan had quietly informed him and Gaius that most of what they were telling Uther was true, just in their own time and place and not in Frankland. What they knew about life in Frankland had come from Reid, apparently, more from his incredible store of knowledge. Morgana was ruling over the ladies of the court, as usual, but with more pleasure than Arthur had ever seen in her. It had to be the calming presence of Lady Emily. The other ladies were quite wide-eyed and silent as Morgana and Emily talked about politics and archery rather than the latest design of dress. Gwen hovered about her lady, smiling and nodding whenever she was addressed by either of them. The court ladies obviously had no idea what to make of them. They certainly had no idea what to make of the two ladies openly flirting with Morgan whenever he wandered too closely. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind, easily flirting back, letting the women fight over him.

  
The feast had ended early for once; the pallor of death still lingering over Camelot. Uther charged his children, both natural and adopted as well as their servants, with seeing their visitors to their temporary quarters. Arthur took them to the guest wing, to the six rooms ringing a single, large circular solar. He was not surprised in the least to see Hotchner following Reid into the same room. The others claimed their own rooms, bidding each other and their hosts goodnight. Not one of them blinked at Hotchner’s actions.

  
Arthur lead the way back to the royal wing, murmuring quiet goodbyes to Morgana and Gwen, still feeling Merlin’s presence at his back. “Go to bed, Merlin.”

  
“I’ll see you to bed, first.”

  
“It’s been a long day.” Arthur pulled at his sword. He usually didn’t wear it to feasts but the circumstances, both Morgana’s dreams and the murders, dictated safety. According to the BAU and Morgana, it would seem he perfectly fit the profile-to-date of the killer’s victims. Draping his coat over his chair, he paused to watch Merlin poking around his chambers. He smiled, shaking his head. “Merlin, go to bed.”

  
“I will. Just not yet.” His voice was muffled because he was ass up in the air, searching under the bed.

  
For the past two days, Arthur had come back to his room to find Merlin rummaging around one area of his room or another. He dismissed it as unimportant in comparison with the murders and his father’s growing displeasure with the situation. But now, with help and some kind of direction, Arthur found himself curious as to why Merlin was investigating his room. He had to smother his laughter as Merlin’s ass wiggled around in his endeavors. “Lose something?”

  
Merlin glared at him over his shoulder. “Just checking.”

  
Understanding dawned, disbelief exploded. “Are you searching my rooms for the killer?”

  
Merlin looked utterly guilty: big wide eyes begging for forgiveness, pink lips shining with nervous licking, hands twisting in fabric. Arthur was overtaken with the violent urge to make Merlin look like that from great sex, not guilt. Instead, he sighed and waved Merlin to continue, restraining himself from any other action. This was not the time for such things. His friend smiled before turning back to the job. Later, when every possible nook and cranny had been thoroughly investigated, Merlin finally bid Arthur goodnight and slipped out. Arthur fervently wished he had asked him to stay.

* * *

Arthur had to push, prod, and drag Merlin to the guest quarters. “I can’t believe you clean my quarters half asleep!”

  
“It’s not like it takes much thought to clean a pig sty,” Merlin mumbled, stumbling into another doorway.

  
“This explains why everything’s done half-assed!” Arthur ignored the insult to the royal chambers and grabbed Merlin before he could concuss himself.

  
“You’re an ass . . . making me . . . ungodly hour.”

  
Arthur rolled his eyes at Merlin’s sleep-slurred words, firmly wrapping his arm around Merlin’s slim waist, rolling his eyes even harder when Merlin merely cuddled into his side. “Spoiled brat.”

  
“Hrrumph.”

  
Arthur snickered. Pushing open the solar door, he found their guests already awake and ready for the day. “Breakfast?”

  
“God, yes!” Lady Emily eagerly nodded as she settled the skirts of her newly gifted dress. Morgan and Rossi joined her as she headed towards the door. Hotchner was coming out of his room, Reid in tow.

  
“Coffee,” Reid moaned.

  
“We’ll get you some downstairs,” Hotchner coaxed his lover out of the solar and into the hallway.

  
“Coffee?” Arthur tilted his head, Merlin still cuddled in his side. He saw Morgana and Gwen coming at them from the opposite direction. Morning smiles gracing their faces.

  
Their guests all froze in the middle of the hallway, spinning back to stare slack-jawed at him and Merlin. Arthur stiffened, eyeing them warily. “What is it?”

  
“Oh God.” Reid’s face was nothing short of horrified. “The British don’t discover coffee until 1650.”

  
Hotchner started snickering; it set off the rest of them. Arthur, Merlin, Morgana, and Gwen exchanged uncertain glances. Whatever this coffee was it was critically important to the other man.

  
Hotchner pulled Reid into his arms, consoling him even as his body shook with laughter. “It’s okay, Spencer, we’ll find you caffeine.”

  
Reid pitifully moaned into his lover’s shoulder.

  
Morgan patted him on the shoulder, grinning rather manically. “It’s okay, pretty boy, even if we have to go to Africa, we’ll get you those beans. Right, Prentiss?”

  
“Oh absolutely, Reid, absolutely. Africa. The Dark Continent.” She was nodding and smiling in a completely serious manner. “Safari time, no problem.”

  
“Hotch, make them go,” Reid whined piteously, half-heartedly thumping the chest under his face. “Make them get me coffee.”

  
“Ha!” Morgan scoffed even as Rossi and Lady Emily laughed. “He doesn’t pay me nearly enough.”

  
Reid peeked out from Hotchner’s still laughter-shaken chest. “I know chemistry and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  
Morgan opened his mouth, Hotchner held up his hand. “Be very careful, Morgan, think about it before you say anything.”

  
Rossi coughed words that sounded like “salt peter” and “anti-viagra.”

  
Whatever those two items were, it made Morgan blanch under his dark skin and effectively silenced him. His friends laughed as Reid smiled smugly at him.

* * *

Breakfast went much quicker than dinner, the BAU people only pausing in their eating to rehash what they had discovered yesterday and to throw out new ideas. From those ideas, Arthur found himself being accompanied by Hotchner and Morgan as he went on patrol while Merlin and Morgana found themselves conscripted into service: finding current and accurate maps of Camelot for Reid. Since Arthur knew that technically only Morgana would be allowed to view the maps, as Uther fully believed that accurate maps of Camelot and the castle could be a security risk, he penned a short note giving Reid permission to look at them as well. He hoped the mapmaker wouldn’t cause a ruckus about it that would involve his father. Lady Emily and Rossi had sat down with Gaius and Gwen to work out the timelines of when the bodies were found. With everyone taken care of, Arthur gathered his new additions and left for patrol.

  
“Since there are five of us, when we do the interviews,” Hotchner said, “we will need five separate rooms.”

  
“And if one of the people you’re interviewing is the killer?” Arthur disliked this idea, preferring that they brought in one witness at a time into an audience chamber.

  
“That’s why you’re going to provide a guard for each interviewer.” Hotchner followed him easily, Morgan lagging behind as he examined one thing or another.

  
Arthur nodded, that he could do. He nodded to the group of knights and guards assigned for this morning’s patrol. Most of them were already mounted. Swinging himself up, he turned to watch Hotchner’s competent, but somewhat ungraceful, movements into his horse’s saddle. Even though Arthur silently chastised his men for their laughter, he could barely keep himself from laughing at Morgan’s consternation with his horse.

  
“Stop moving, horsey,” the man was grumbling, fighting with the playful horse as it wheeled and danced away from any attempt to get into the saddle.

  
Arthur laughed softly when he saw Hotchner do the same.

  
“Don’t they have horses in Frankland?” one of the guards asked in an aside to another guard.

  
“Of course they do.” Morgan glared, not at the man, but at the horse. “I just don’t ride them.”

  
That sent all of them to whispering about the strangeness of the Franks. Arthur took pity on him, aligning his more obedient horse alongside Morgan’s mischievous one, forcing it to stand still. Everyone finally mounted, they took off at a canter. His knights, while curious about the Franks, dropped back, giving them and Arthur privacy as they patrolled Camelot and the surrounding areas. It angered Arthur, seeing how the people scurried from place to place, afraid for their lives, sending fearful looks over their shoulders. Some of the looks were pointed at him and his men. “Is the murderer one of my knights?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth, not wanting any of his men overhearing. He didn’t want to hear an affirmative answer but the question had to be asked.

  
The two men both shook their heads, relieving Arthur’s fears immediately. Hotchner nodded at how one villager took one look at them and slammed her door shut. “Knights and guards are noticed. They stand out.”

  
“The killer wouldn’t be noticed by anyone,” Morgan added, still fighting with his horse. “That’s how he’s been able to kill without being caught.”

  
Arthur nodded. The rest of patrol passed quickly and quietly. Hotchner and Morgan asked questions here and there but for the most part played observer. Hours and miles later, the patrol rode back into Camelot. They were met by Merlin and the others. From Merlin’s wide, excited grin, they must have found something.

* * *

“Our unsub lives in this area.” Reid had a map spread out on the large table in the guest quarter’s solar. Little decorative pins from Gwen’s sewing basket dotted the layout of Camelot, marking each place a body had been found. One area, completely clear of pins, was being circled by Reid’s finger.

  
Arthur didn’t bother asking how he knew this information, especially since Merlin and the others seemed to be enthusiastic about the information. The area Reid was showing him was like any other part of Camelot. Not an area frequented by nobles but by commoners from all walks of life. He stood still as Merlin helped him with his armor, undoing all of the buckles and straps with familiar speed and hands. “I’ll increase the patrols in that area.”

  
“You won’t catch him there,” Hotchner contradicted. “That’s his safety zone, the one place he won’t kill.”

  
“Do not foul the waters from which you will drink,” Gaius intoned with grave wisdom. Everyone nodded.

  
“The timeline says the unsub’s breaking point was fifteen weeks ago.” Rossi indicated another sheet of parchment with dates and times.

  
“So that’s when the stressor, the event that caused our unsub to start killing, happened.” Lady Emily paced as she spoke but she wasn’t the only one up or moving. She and her friends seemed incapable of sitting as they spoke of the case. Instead, they leaned against tables and walls, or stared at the drawings and notes scattered about the table, as they planned their interviews that were to take place this afternoon.

  
Arthur was content to let them talk, to plan, amongst themselves. He felt no obligation to join in. This was their area of expertise; his were training his knights and leading them into battle. He sat in a free chair, listening to them, watching them. Gaius puttered about, making his herbal tea, letting Gwen and Merlin serve the cups. When his manservant brought him his cup, the last of the cups he noticed, Arthur snagged Merlin’s breeches. He gave him a pointed look to which Merlin sighed before trudging to the door and ordered lunch for them all. When the lower servants came in bearing trays of food, the others were so surprised, they stared at it for a bit before moving to fill their plates.

  
Arthur stayed where he was, not surprised when Merlin brought two heaping plates but only one filled goblet to him. He was surprised that his usually clumsy friend managed to carry all three without spilling until he realized Merlin was using his magic to juggle it all. Merlin handed the wine and one of the plates to Arthur, completely ignoring Arthur’s chastising glare. He wasn’t surprised at all when Merlin used magic to pull up a chair and sat down with his own plate and proceeded to share Arthur’s cup without a by-your-leave. Arthur merely shook his head and grumbled about spoiled servants.

  
Lunch passed pleasantly, even with the killer’s specter hanging over them all. Soon enough, they all headed down to the rooms that had been set aside for the interviews. Commoners, guards, and knights had been lined up in a large room as they awaited their turn. The only thing they had in common was the acquaintance of a murdered man. The BAU set themselves up in each of the rooms, two guards posted inside and outside, and as many sheets of parchment they could spare. Arthur paced the length of the corridor, listening to bits and pieces of the questioning, finding some of the conversation utter useless but nevertheless, not interfering.

  
“Could you tell me about John? Did he like to hunt?” Reid was asking with honest, academic enthusiasm, making the matronly woman smile.

  
“Was he a talkative man? Did he make friends easily?” Hotchner was leaning back, exuding an air of a friendly exchange. The guard he was interviewing relaxed as he talked about his friend.

  
“Did he hit you?” Lady Emily’s voice was gentleness itself as she took the skittish woman’s hand.

  
“Did he have these fits often?” Morgan was busy writing but he would glance up, flashing that charming smile to reassure the very young man across the table from him. The boy nodded, long hair flopping into his face.

  
“Did you see anyone more interested in him than usual?” Rossi sat next to the young girl, projecting a fatherly air, smiling at her as bashfully smiled back, a gleam of adoration in her eyes. She probably never received such focused attention before.

  
On and on the interviews went, barely finishing in time for dinner. The meal passed in a most interesting manner. His father tried to make conversation with Hotchner and Rossi again but the two men were so utterly focused on the pages and pages of notes that they were completely oblivious to his attempts. The entire party was like that. Morgan ignored any and all efforts made by Morgana and the other court ladies to engage in conversation. Lady Emily seated herself between Morgan and Reid, rebuffing any advances to dance or talk. Reid was so focused he didn’t even bother to touch his nearly full plate.

  
Thankfully, their rapt attention to their work merely engendered the truth of their interest even further in Uther’s mind. Arthur relaxed at his table, making conversation with Morgana and his father. He hid his smile when Merlin whispered that Lord Rolfe was so inebriated that he thought his hound was his wife and she had smacked him for it. It would have been the only incident of interest except Reid stood, darting out of the banquet hall, many startled eyes following his departure. Upon his return, more papers clutched in his hands, he was stopped by Lord Gifford.

  
Arthur dismissed this interaction until Hotchner stood, making his way towards his lover. Arthur turned, getting to his feet as he saw what Hotchner saw. Reid was struggling against Gifford, a slim arm clutched in Gifford’s meaty fist. Tension radiated from his slim frame, eyes so wide Arthur could see the fear and discomfort in them from the head table. He stood as well, pushing back from the table, heading towards them. More and more people were starting to notice. Uther was frowning, goblet on the table, hand still around the stem, the other curled loosely around his chair’s arm. Reid’s friends were up now too, pulled from their investigative stupor by the scuffle.

  
Arthur didn’t hear what was being said, only getting there just in time to grab Hotchner after he slugged Gifford. The heavily muscled lord fell flat on his ass, face furious and humiliated, mouth agape with sputtering incoherent fury. Hotchner didn’t even notice as he pulled out of Arthur’s grip, immediately turning to Reid, checking his lover over. Reid hadn’t been harmed but kept Hotchner between himself and Gifford.

  
“What the hell is going on here?” Arthur demanded, carefully keeping himself between Hotchner and the now standing Gifford.

  
“The damn Frank hit me for no reason! I demand satisfaction!” Gifford blustered, waving his arms the way he was wont to do, drawing even more attention to himself as he threw down his gauntlet.

  
Hotchner favored him with such an intensely scathing glare Arthur was surprised Gifford didn’t burst into flames right then and there. “I had reason.”

  
Gifford unwisely ignored Hotchner in favor of turning to Uther. “Your majesty, I demand satisfaction!”

  
Uther, thankfully, shook his head. “My lord Gifford, I would normally agree but Sir Hotchner is a guest--”

  
“As am I!”

  
“Who is investigating the deaths plaguing Camelot.” Uther spoke right over him.

  
“I am demand satisfaction!” Gifford sneered. “Or are Franks unable to stand up for their own honor?”

  
Hotchner merely raised a brow, pushing Reid towards the others, turning his own back. He clearly didn’t care about honor, clearly didn’t care about Gifford’s taunts and jeers.

  
“Perhaps Camelot enjoys hosting spineless academics.”

  
Arthur narrowed his eyes. Now that was not something he would stand for. He bent, hand stretched out to take the gauntlet but Hotchner’s hand swooped in to grab it instead.

  
Hotchner was utterly impassive as he faced Gifford. “I accept. Your challenge, my choice in weapons. Hand to hand combat.”

  
The scandalized twittering began immediately.

* * *

### Chapter Seven

  
“Hotch! Hotch!” Morgan was grabbing at his leader, turning to get his full attention. “Are you sure about this?”

  
“For the last time, Morgan, yes.” Hotchner answered but his attention was clearly on the array of armor Merlin had laid on the table. He fingered the chain mail and breast plate but turned his attention mostly to the knives splayed in display. For a man set to fight to first blood against a trained knight, Hotchner was extremely calm and unprotected. He may be studying the armor but he had refused any attempts Merlin and Gwen had made to dress him.

  
Reid, too, seemed extremely calm. He was seated by Hotchner’s side, going over yet more pages of notes, completely ignoring the pacing Morgan and the worried Lady Emily. Rossi did not seem as calm as the two men but was, in his own way, not worried about Hotchner going into the ring. Arthur had to admit fell into the camp that was worried about the other man. He could barely ride a horse. He had handled the sword Arthur had given him as if it were a completely foreign object. What did people in the future use to protect themselves if the leader of a group of law enforcers was unfamiliar with a sword?

  
“Would you stop that?” Reid asked, voice full of exasperation, but didn’t even lift his head though he was clearly addressing Morgan. “Stop worrying, Hotch’ll be fine.”

  
“He’s going to fight a trained knight!” Lady Emily protested, hand waving at the weaponry. “With swords!”

  
“Knives, actually.” Hotchner picked one up, testing its balance. To Arthur’s eyes, it looked as if the man knew at least that much.

  
“What do you know about knife fighting?” Morgan challenged.

  
“He spent two years in SWAT, Morgan. Most of his squad was ex-military.” Reid made marks on one sheet, pausing to compare it with the map. “His experience extends beyond guns. Now stop worrying.”

  
The other three members of their team were crossed between flabbergasted and amused but the obviously familiar words seem to settle all of their worries. Rossi merely sat down, completely relaxed and started to look at Reid’s discarded notes. Lady Emily’s back softened and her hands loosened their grip on her skirt. Morgan finally stopped his pacing and settled between Lady Emily and Morgana on the long high backed bench, draping his arms over both their shoulders. Arthur would have taken offense on Morgana’s behalf but her quelling glare stopped him.

  
Hotchner smiled down at his lover, hand passing over Reid’s hair to settle on his shoulder. “Anything interesting?”

  
“Maybe.” His fingers went to his lips. “I’ll tell you when I’m sure.”

  
Arthur still wasn’t sure what had been said last night between Hotchner, Reid, and Gifford but he could hazard an easy guess. The way Reid absolutely refused to go anywhere now without one of his friends or Merlin spoke loud and clear. The way Hotchner hovered over his lover confirmed it. Arthur turned to Merlin, catching his friend by the arm and pulling him close. “Has Gifford ever approached you?”

  
Merlin hid his reaction a second too late. “Arthur, no!”

  
Arthur stopped only because Merlin was literally hanging on him, hands hooked over his shoulders, feet and legs tangled in his own. He grabbed at Merlin’s hips, intending to push him away. He had someone to kill. “Let go.”

  
“You’re not going to challenge that bastard.” Merlin put himself nose to nose with Arthur, hands moving up to cup Arthur’s jaw. “He’s never gotten a chance to do anything. Something always seems to happen.”

  
He knew immediately what that meant but it only made the tension worse. “Merlin, you can’t use--”

  
“I only had to use it once.” Merlin’s words were rushed but sincere. “The servants, we have a system, a way of watching out for each other.”

  
“Against him?” The case against Gifford was getting worse and worse. He knew the man had a tendency to find bed partners all over the castle and beyond. He’d heard how Gifford paid for such things but he hadn’t realized that the man was coercing the unwilling.

  
Merlin nodded. “Against any of the more aggressive lords, really. But mostly him right now. Whenever he’s visiting, someone always follows him, that way if he catches someone by accident, they can come to the rescue. Chambermaids always go to his quarters at the same time the guards do their morning and nightly checks. If he sends for someone, the older servants always go.”

  
The older, more undesirable servants, Merlin was too nice to say. Arthur closed his eyes, hands dragging Merlin closer into the shelter of his body. “Morgana, did you know about this?”

  
“No, I didn’t.” Her voice was ice cold as she turned to Gwen. She had to forcibly gentle it. “Has he approach you?”

  
Gwen darted at look at Merlin but she too nodded. “Yes, my lady, but he’s never been able to . . .” She waved her hand to finish the sentence.

  
“Arthur,” Morgana warned, but unlike Merlin’s warning, hers said he’d better do something about Gifford or she would. Arthur was almost tempted to unleash her fury upon Gifford but the man was Uther’s valued ally. He’d have to tread carefully on the matter. He nodded, Morgana subsided with her own nod.

* * *

Arthur could hear the whispers already and he wasn’t even seated in the stands yet. If he hadn’t already known that Hotchner wasn’t going to be wearing any of the protective garb, he would have been speculating on the chances of the strange Frankish leader as well. All he could do was calmly settled beside his father, feeling Merlin at his back.

  
Uther stood. “The match is to first blood and honor will be satisfied. Is that clear?”

  
Gifford, dressed in chain mail, hefted a dagger so large it could have been a sword, nodded. Hotchner nodded as well, adjusting the lightest of gambesons, the only protection he had submitted to wearing. The two men entered the ring. Hotchner was, as always, calm and unruffled. Gifford was sneering at his opponent, gesturing at the drastically smaller knife Hotchner wielded, comparing it to the blade Hotchner wielded between his legs, jeered at a stupid academic’s choice in fighting attire. Hotchner ignored it all, merely studying the other man. Arthur could only hope Hotchner knew what he was doing. His friends, sitting close to Arthur’s right, seemed mostly calm and anticipatory.

  
The two men faced off: Hotchner, still and watchful, Gifford was warily circling and feinting with jabs of his dagger. The crowd was screaming encouragement but only Gifford’s cronies were cheering for him. Gifford continued to advance, moving closer with each step, blows steadily becoming more and more serious. Slashing, jabbing, clean thrusts that should have skewered Hotchner but he evaded each and every one. Hotchner ducked under swings to his shoulders and chest. Pivoted on one heel, sidestepping the straight thrust of knife to his stomach. Leaned impossibly back when the blade came dangerously close to his throat.

  
His movements were clean, precise, controlled. Never a moment of wasted energy, never a second of indecision. Body exactly where he wanted, breathing perfectly even, sharp eyes never leaving his opponent. He was the kind of fighter Arthur craved for his own knights: seasoned, intelligent, calm, mercifully ruthless. Arthur would not want to go against such a fighter. It was clear, Hotchner was the cat to Gifford’s mouse.

  
Arthur could see the second Hotchner decided to stop the game. He ceased moving; the six inch knife in his hands disappeared. Arthur craned and flexed, finally spotting the tale tell gleam of steel lying flat against the length of Hotchner’s forearm. Gifford never noticed the difference in his opponent, never even noticed the knife’s new position. Hotchner took full advantage. Right hand sweeping across Gifford’s eyes completely distracted him from the left, flashing out with that knife, slicing clean into the fleshy skin of Gifford’s cheek. Blood oozed from the thin line, shock froze Gifford’s face. The crowd roared to its feet with approval, the king called the match in Hotchner’s favor but the victor left the field, head held high, absolutely no pleasure in his win in evidence.

* * *

Of course, everyone wanted to speak to the champion. The courtyard was filled with celebrants, cheering and talking, recounting the fight over and over. The better knights wanted to ask questions, the nobles wanted to flatter, the ladies fruitlessly flirted. Unfortunately, the champion wasn’t interested in any of it, clear from the bored expression and the stiff carriage of his body. His lover and friends acted as buffers but they could only do so much against such a wave of enthusiasm. Stiff became granite stone when Gifford pushed through the crowd. Sheer audacity was the only explanation for the simpleton’s hand roughly wrapped around Reid’s arm. Gifford grabbed him, yanking him away from Hotchner. Stupefied into letting Reid go when the younger man stomped on his small toe with such force, Arthur was sure it was probably broken. Reid jerked away, right back into Hotchner’s arms.

  
Coldly thunderous, Hotchner calmly pressed Reid into the bosom of their friends. Arthur reached them just in time to see Hotchner haul Gifford’s not inconsiderable girth up onto his toes. “Touch him again and I will kill you.” Voice like ice and stone, Hotchner pushed Gifford away, ankle hooked behind Gifford’s to land him ass on the ground, glaring up at Hotchner. The other man merely stared him down before turning and enveloping Reid in his arms, surrounded by their friends, Morgana and Gwen.

  
Arthur fell into step with them, ushering Merlin in between himself and Reid, away from any possible attack by Gifford. For all his bluster, he would never dare raise a hand in the vicinity of the crowned prince of Camelot. “Nicely done, Hotch.”

  
He bobbed his dark head, lips still set in grim lines. “Thank you, your highness.”

  
“A feast is being prepared in your honor,” Morgana murmured, looking as if she knew the answer already. She probably did.

  
“If it’s alright with King Uther, I’d rather get back to work.” Hotchner laced his fingers through Reid’s. “We’ve been away from our son too long.”

  
Reid managed to lay his head against Hotchner’s broad shoulder even as they continued towards the guest quarters. “Yeah. I was supposed to check with my mother’s doctors this weekend too.”

  
Arthur exchanged a glance with Morgana to make sure she would be willing to back him on this. This would work better with both of them teaming against his father. When she nodded, he returned it. “We’ll make your apologies to the king.”

* * *

The feast wasn’t the same without the champion but everyone took full advantage of the excuse to partake in wine and song. Everyone that was, except Gifford, who had been politely informed by Uther that he would be attending in a sign of good faith and solidarity to the king of Camelot. The loser sat in the corner, a haze of bitter disappointment and rage simmering in the very air around him. It was so thick even his own cronies gave him a wide berth. It would have probably been worse if Hotchner, Reid and the others were in attendance. Uther had not been pleased by their absence but admired them for their dedication for their work. Before coming down to the feast, Arthur had left the five of them in their solar, pouring over notes and discussing theories. Most of it he hadn’t understood but he was confident they would have something to report soon. His instincts said something important was going to happen soon.

  
Arthur leaned back as Merlin leaned over him to refill his goblet. He absently stroked Merlin’s long thigh with the back of his fingers while watching him. Merlin pulled back slowly, pausing with their faces only finger-lengths apart. Arthur didn’t know when their close friendship became more, didn’t realize just when standing close as he possibly could to Merlin became so very imperative. He didn’t know when the other man became more than servant, friend, and confidante. He just knew Merlin welcomed it all with open arms, a wide, endearingly goofy smile, and a generous heart.

  
“Is there anything else, sire?” For once, that word fell from Merlin’s lips without a hint of insolence or sarcastic amusement. It held warmth and intimacy but was a clear replacement for his name.

  
Arthur couldn’t wait to kiss his name from Merlin’s lips. “No, not at--”

  
“Your majesty!” The page burst into the banquet hall, fully out of breath, struggling to stand at attention in front of Uther. “Lord Gifford’s been murdered!”

* * *

For once, Arthur didn’t feel a shred of remorse for a life lost when he stared down at Gifford’s body. Since learning of Gifford’s proclivities, he’d noticed more and more of the servants steering clear of the man. No one had wanted to serve him at the feast; more than one face showing relief when he finally quit the banquet hall in a black cloud of anger and resentment. At the news of his death, more than one face smiled in guilty joy. Morgana’s had been frozen in righteous anger but then her eyes had widened and her lovely face crumpled in fear. Arthur had felt the gut-punch of her terrified eyes when she realized the killer had struck inside the castle. He pushed her concern aside, knowing that if he panicked it would cloud his thoughts, but could not shake Merlin’s possessive fear. Merlin stuck close, refusing to let Arthur out of his sight. Merlin became even more unshakable when the BAU people arrived.

  
“It’s the same killer.” Reid’s announcement rippled through those allowed to stay in Gifford’s room.

  
The room was just as bloody as the others, the largest pool under Gifford’s body, but the walls were covered in dripping slashes of red. As if the very stones of Camelot were bleeding for her people.

  
“It was not!” Sir Stirling hissed, hardened eyes spearing Hotchner. “It was him!”

  
Hotchner didn’t even flinch when all eyes landed on him. “I was with my friends the entire night. I didn’t even know where Gifford could be found.”

  
“But you know about how the killer kills,” Sir Godfrey, another of Gifford’s friends, added. He sounded calmer, more logical than Stirling’s heated accusation. “It wouldn’t be hard for you to mimic him.”

  
“I have no reason to kill this man.” Hotchner didn’t seem bothered or worried about their accusations. He seemed more interested in his friends and their study of the body than in anything anyone else was saying. As if he was answering their charges for mere propriety’s sake. Much like how he took up Gifford’s challenge: he did it because it needed to be done, not because his honor had been besmirched. Arthur wondered what it would take to threatened Hotchner’s sense of honor. From the focused, intently staring eyes, it would seem death on his watch, while he was hunting the killer, would be the only blow to his honor.

  
Arthur’s distraction cost him the warning signs.

  
“Put him in the dungeons,” Uther ordered.

  
“What!” Reid jumped to his feet.

  
“What the hell?” Morgan shoved himself between the guards and his leader.

  
“Uther --” Morgana surged to her guardian’s side.

  
“Your majesty, Hotchner did not do this.” Rossi was the calmest of them all.

  
Lady Emily was trying to keep a guard from even reaching Hotchner.

  
“Father,” Arthur tried, Merlin’s tense fingers curled around his arm.

  
“Silence!” Uther commanded and they all obeyed. “Put him in the dungeons until an investigation can be done.”

* * *

### Chapter Eight

  
“Father, Aaron Hotchner cannot be the killer,” Arthur argued. Only he, Morgana and Gaius were in the room with his father. Only with this select audience would he even attempt to directly contradict his father’s ruling. “He has only just arrived in Camelot.”

  
“I know he’s not the killer, Arthur, but there is nothing to say he did not kill Gifford.” Uther poured himself wine, eyes hard but mixed with understanding. “He beat Gifford fairly, but Gifford still tried to accost the young man. The entire courtyard heard the threat against Gifford.”

  
“Sir Aaron did not kill Lord Gifford, sire.” Morgana was so very still in her seat at the window. Arthur could still see fear in her eyes. He wondered if it was because the killer was able to get into the castle or if she had foreseen Gifford’s death and the dream’s confirmation was unsettling her.

  
“That remains to be seen.” Uther sat down, peering at Arthur through the firelight. “I want you to investigate his death yourself.”

  
“And the others, sire?” Arthur fully planned to make sure that Hotchner’s stay in the dungeon was as comfortable and as short as humanly possible.

  
“Place two guards on each of them at all times.”

  
Morgana scoffed softly but it was loud enough to ring in the room. “You would place their leader in the dungeon but you expect them to find Camelot’s killer.”

  
“Morgana!”

  
She didn’t stop, majestically sweeping out, trailing disgust in her wake, completely ignoring Uther’s roar.

  
Arthur stared at his father wondering, not for the first time, why he was the way he was. There had been stories of his father’s reign before his mother’s death. Uther had been feared only by those who opposed him, those other kingdoms that dared to invade Camelot. But their people, Camelot’s people, had celebrated him, had worshiped him, lauding him as their king. By all accounts, it all changed with his mother’s death. Arthur often wondered how his mother died, merely being told time and time again that she had taken ill and passed away. Never a reason, never a theory. As if everyone in the world already knew but wasn’t willing to tell him.

  
He wondered if magic had been the cause.

  
He wondered if that was the reason for the law, for the deaths.

  
Uther seemed to have deflated once Morgana left the room. Gaius bowed merely moments later, taking his leave as well. Arthur could feel his father’s eyes studying him. He said nothing, merely staring back.

  
“You think I’m wrong.”

  
A trap if Arthur ever saw one. A positive would be familial treason; a negative would be a lie. “You are the king, your majesty.”

  
He bowed, leaving the room, leaving his true thoughts lingering in the air between father and son.

  
_You are king but not for forever. When I am king, things will be different._

* * *

Arthur wasn’t the least surprised to see everyone down in the dungeon. Wasn’t in the least surprised to see the utterly befuddled guards staring at Hotchner’s bustling cell. They all snapped to attention at his presence but he waved them away, grinning in rueful amusement to show them all this activity around a prisoner was all right with him. They all nodded gratefully. Arthur joined them against the wall, watching.

  
Merlin and Gwen were shuffling about, setting up a decent cot with bedding for Hotchner as Morgana directed efforts to bring in a table and chair. Even Gaius was in the cell, spreading owl droppings to keep the rats away. The prisoner moved out of the way, joining Arthur at the wall with the guards.

  
“Unusual treatment for a prisoner.”

  
Hotchner’s tone was so dry Arthur thought dust was going to come pouring out next. He barked a laugh. “It is.”

  
Hotchner slanted a sideways look at him. “I’m surprise you’re letting them do it.”

  
Arthur shrugged. “I don’t believe you’re guilty.”

  
“Your father does.”

  
He shook his head. “No, he does what he thinks needs to be done.”

  
“Ah.” Hotchner fell silent.

  
Soon enough, it was just the two of them. Merlin, Morgana, Gwen and Gaius had all taken their leave once the cell was a hospitable as they could make it. Hotchner’s people had reluctantly left at his order. Reid had rebelliously wanted to stay, refusing to move from the chair in the cell. Hotchner had knelt before him, taking his hand and whispering into his lover’s ear. Whatever he had said, Reid had resignedly nodded, folding himself into Hotchner’s arms for a long moment before taking his leave as well.

  
Arthur dismissed the guards back to their post, joining Hotchner in the cell. The guards kept looking over their shoulders, unsure about leaving the heir of Camelot with an accused killer. Arthur rolled his eyes and ignored them, taking the seat Reid had vacated. When minutes passed and nothing happened, the guards slowly shuffled away, as if just the act of turning their backs was enough to morph Hotchner into a raving murderer. Arthur tried very hard not to roll his eyes again. Hotchner settled on the cot, back against the wall, facing Arthur. Silence reigned, uninterrupted.

  
Arthur didn’t know how to start. Didn’t know the words.

  
“You want to know about my relationship with Reid.”

  
It shouldn’t have surprised him that Hotchner knew exactly what he wanted. He leaned back and studied the other man, not confirming or denying, merely waiting. But the bastard didn’t speak again, obviously wanting to wait him out. Arthur gave in. “Camelot needs a king. A king the people will follow, a king whose life – private and public – the people will support.”

  
Hotchner nodded. “Our worlds, our situations, are different. The others knew me before Reid and I became involved, they were our friends and didn’t care. I’m their boss, their leader, they want me in that position and don’t care who I’m with as long as I take care of my responsibilities.”

  
Arthur nodded, knowing all that just by watching them these past days. “And other people? These local law enforcement officers that you work with? How do you deal with them?”

  
“We do not flaunt our relationship so they never know.” Hotchner stared at him dead on, something alight in his eyes that Arthur would never want to go against, especially after watching him this morning. “But even if they knew, it’s none of their business.”

  
It made sense in Hotchner’s world but in his? It wouldn’t work. “Any suggestions?”

  
Hotchner huffed a laugh, the seriousness of before fading away, but strangely replaced by irony. “Marry a woman you trust, a friend, who isn’t interested in you as a lover. Get your heir then let her find her own lover, Arthur. As long as they’re as discrete, as long as you and Merlin are discrete, it should work.”

  
“Is that what you did?” As an abstract idea it had merit though it was mercenary as hell.

  
“No. I was married before I ever met Reid but even having a son couldn’t save our marriage.” Hotchner did not seem bitter -- resigned, saddened, yes -- but not bitter.

  
“Living separate lives in the same home.” He tested out that idea, wondering how Hotchner dealt with both his lover and his wife in the same house. But then he remembered when they first meet, how frantic Hotchner was that his son would be left alone. Perhaps she had abandoned them and that was what he had meant when he said that even their son couldn’t save their marriage.

  
Hotchner shook his head, face straight with an amused gleam in his dark eyes. “A really big castle helps with that.”

  
Arthur smirked. Yes, that did.

* * *

Arthur left the peaceful silence of the dungeons and walked right into a very loud discussion. Everyone had gathered in Gaius’ workroom, scattered about, showing different levels of tension.

  
“Does he honestly think Hotchner killed Gifford?” Rossi demanded of the room in general.

  
“He is king, he must protect the people of Camelot,” Gaius answered him in that firm, confident way of his.

  
“Not from Hotch!” Rossi was pacing, agitated, glowering. The others weren’t hiding their displeasure either; they just weren’t as vocal. Morgan sat tensed like a coiled snake; Lady Emily leaned against him, almost holding him still. Reid was curled in on himself, keeping his eyes on the papers in his hands, but glancing up enough to keep track of the argument. Morgana followed the conversation avidly while Gwen tried to disappear into the stonework. Merlin immediately came to Arthur’s side, leaning against him, tension rippling through his body and into Arthur’s.

  
“Uther does what he thinks is best.” Gaius puttered about, tension only betrayed by the way he couldn’t focus on a single task, going from one thing to another.

  
Rossi glared at him. “What’s best for the kingdom would be Hotchner, here, with us, helping us catch the actual killer.”

  
“You all seem perfectly capable of doing that without Sir Aaron.”

  
BAU heads whipped around, several sets of eyes glaring. Morgan opened his mouth.

  
“Your highness! Your highness!” The page burst through Gaius’ door, panting hard, struggling to keep upright while heaving for breath. “Another body!”

  
Arthur didn’t wait for him to finish, darting out of the room, firmly aware of all of the people on his heels. He didn’t need to ask where the body was found, merely having to follow the crowd of morbid spectators to the guards’ quarters. Behind the rooms, his father and several of Arthur’s men ringed another mutilated body. The man’s name was Edward, not particularly liked, but competent enough. His body was the same as the others, sliced up both arms, both legs, across the groin and neck. His right hand was severed and gone. His clothes lay scattered about. It was the same as Gifford, as the others. Only one difference stood out. On the wall, written in blood was a message:

  


I kiled the lord let the frank go

Arthur stared at the message as he absently ordered his men to clear the area. He vaguely heard his father ushering the girls out against Morgana’s vehement wishes. He saw Gaius double checking to make sure Edward was beyond his help before leaving as well. He could feel Merlin at his shoulder, closer then proper but exactly where he wanted him.

  
“Arthur?”

  
“He’s killed an innocent man to set another innocent man free.”

  
“Maybe he does have a conscience?” Merlin stared down at the body at Arthur’s feet.

  
Arthur felt the shudder of remorse before Merlin wrapped his hand around his arm, gently pulling him out of the way. Reid was carefully avoiding the body, more to preserve the crime than any real need to steer clear of the bloody mess. The other man was intent on the writing. Arthur turned to the others. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

  
They all shook their heads. Morgan crouched by the victim’s feet, tilting his head to examine Edward between his legs. The sour look confirmed that the guard had been violated. Lady Emily stood at Edward’s shoulders, face pensive in thought. Rossi was examining the rest of the area, remaining silent when he found nothing of use.

  
“Reid.” Rossi joined the younger man at the wall. “What does it tell us?”

  
“The way a person writes can tell you about them?” Merlin asked, moving away from Arthur, closer to the other two. Arthur pulled him back, lacing their fingers together to keep him anchored by his side. Merlin was so engrossed with Rossi’s answer he didn’t protest.

  
“Graphology is the study and analysis of handwriting especially in relation to human psychology. It’s been controversial for more than a century. Although supporters point to the anecdotal evidence of thousands of positive testimonials as a reason to use it for personality evaluation, most empirical studies fail to show the validity claimed by its supporters. At the BAU, we use it to refine our profile but we don’t rely on it during the actual building of the profile or during court testimony.” Rossi glanced at Reid again. “Reid, what’ve we got?”

  
“The bar on the ‘t’ slants downward, confirming the killer’s left hand status. The arch in the bottom of the ‘l’ indicates criminal tendencies; the heavy pastiosity supports this and indicates low impulse control.” Reid was still staring at the wall, fingers dancing in the air tracing the letters before touching his mouth. “The misspelled words tell us that the person who wrote this is uneducated. The baseline is descending showing fatalistic beliefs and disillusionment. Also, these long, initial straight forward upstrokes through the baseline shows an antagonistic attitude.”

  
“Reid, does that really help--” Arthur started wearily.

  
Reid gave him a look full of smug righteousness. “The roundness of all the letters tells me the killer’s a woman.”

  
“What?” Arthur nearly yelled. Merlin and Gaius echoing him.

  
“And she’s a butcher,” Lady Emily announced, a light of excitement in her eyes.

  
“We already knew that, Prentiss,” Morgan pointed out.

  
“No, I mean a real butcher, someone who prepares meat.” She ran her fingers through the air above each of the long gashes. “When my family was travel through Africa, I saw farm animals being slaughtered for food. These cuts . . . they’re how farmers and butchers bleed the animals out faster, so they don’t drag out the death.” She used the sleeve of Edward’s shirt to lift his handless right arm. “Look at how the hand’s been severed off. The bones have shallow surface cuts but none of them have been cut through.”

  
“Like the killer was establishing where the bones were to cut around them.” Morgan leaned in for a closer look.

  
“Yeah, that’s right.” She shook her head bemusedly. “I knew there was something familiar about these bodies.”

  
Rossi turned on his heel, spearing Arthur with his dark eyes. “We need Hotch.”

* * *

“Your majesty, in light of recent events,” Rossi smoothly petitioned without having to mention the grotesque events themselves, “we would like the release of Aaron Hotchner.”

  
“And how do I know one of you didn’t do this to clear his name?” Uther idly demanded, looking as if he already made up his mind . . . in the opposite direction of what the BAU was hoping.

  
Arthur nearly rolled his eyes at his father’s obstinate attitude. “Father, Gaius, Morgana, Gwen, Merlin, and I were with them the entire time. They never left our sight.”

  
Uther stared at him, sweeping his eyes over to Morgana and Gaius, not even taking in Gwen or Merlin. He then studied the BAU, all of them held defensive yet hopeful postures. “Guards will accompany you at all times. All of you, not just Sir Aaron.”

  
The BAU nodded carelessly, as if completely uncaring about Uther’s lack of trust in them. But then again, what did they have to lose by Uther’s distrust? Their reputations in Camelot meant nothing to them, their livelihoods did not depend on gaining Uther’s patronage, his approval. When this was all over, they would go back to their lives in the future. Arthur envied them just the tiniest bit. He led them down to the dungeons, glaring the guards back when Merlin darted forward to grab the keys to Hotchner’s cell.

  
“What’s happened?” Hotchner demanded. He looked grave, but not surprised, to hear that someone was murdered to clear his name. There was no rejoicing over his freedom, not hugs or kisses or backslapping. He and his team were entirely focused on catching the murderer. “Revenge killings.”

  
His friends all nodded, grim satisfaction on all of the faces. It was as if with his concurring conclusion, they knew they were done. Arthur found himself faced with an anticipatory Aaron Hotchner.

  
“Get your men,” Hotchner ordered. “We’ve got a profile for you.”

* * *

“The murdered men weren’t chose at random. This is not a mad man indiscriminately murdering men,” Hotchner addressed everyone in the courtyard. It was filled to brimming with servants, guards, knights, nobles, and even the king himself was present. Hotchner stood at the top of the steps, easily seen by all, voice carried to all by the wind. “Camelot’s killer chose them because two shared traits: they were abusive men who were right handed. We believe the killer murders these types of men because there is an abusive, right handed man in her life.”

  
“Her life?” Uther demanded with utter disbelief. It was echoed in the suddenly whisper-filled yard.

  
“Our analysis shows that the killer is a woman,” Rossi answered. “All of these men were found naked or nearly so, because their bodies showed no evidence of being handled after death, it’s reasonable to assume that they disrobed themselves.” He bent a confiding look on the men in the crowd. “There are only two reasons for these men to be naked and there wasn’t a bath anywhere in sight.” Men guffawed and women twittered, many relaxing minutely at the joke. But Rossi wasn’t done laying out the evidence. “Also, many of these men were reported to having been seen following a woman shortly before their deaths.”

  
Uther was nodding, many were following his example.

  
“The woman we’re looking for experienced a life altering event right before the first murder.” Reid took one step up to join his lover, catching people’s attention. “Due to the nature of these murders, and to the nature of this day and age, loss of empl--”

  
“Reid,” Hotchner coughed.

  
“She must have experienced either being violated herself or the death of a loved one,” he segued away almost smoothly back to the matter at hand. “Who was violated by this abusive male figure in their lives.”

  
“She is not a noble.” Morgan moved across the steps, putting himself closer to Hotchner and Reid, but stepped down the stairs towards the crowd. “She moves freely through the castle and through Camelot. A noble would have been noticed, servants and peasants are not. She’s quiet, unnoticeable until she is angered and only one thing angers her: abusive men.”

  
“Lastly, she’s been trained as a butcher or in any occupation which deals with the slaughtering of animals.” Lady Emily, already having a good amount of attention because of her mere presence up on the steps with the other men, garnered more. Most of it shocked, not knowing what to make of this woman who stood beside men, speaking of the killing of animals and men with such poise. “She wields knives with deadly accuracy and is knowledgeable enough in her work to separate appendages without cutting through bone.”

  
The five of them had spoken in turns, just as they had before when demonstrating their skills to the king, picking up where another left off, all in accord. They fell silent, Hotchner and Reid stepped away from the people’s focal point, letting Arthur take it. He inclined his head to his father but Uther waved him ahead, letting him take the lead. Nodding his thanks, Arthur turned to his people. “Heed these words, think of those you know, those who fit this description. Report them to the guards. I will personally investigate every piece of information given.”

  
A wave of his hand dismissed them all. The people walked away, whispers and speculation filled the air. Arthur knew he would have every scared villager and noble insisting this person or that was the killer. But at least now they were armed with more than conjecture and insubstantial witnesses. He smiled grimly as the others ringed him.

  
“What happens now?” Merlin asked, taking his place by Arthur’s side.

  
“We wait and see what the people bring us.” Arthur let his fingers brush against the back of Merlin’s hand, safely hidden from sight between their bodies. He nearly jerked when long fingers laced through his own, inwardly smiled at Merlin’s boldness.

  
“Or,” Morgan proposed, “we could go out there and start asking people about butchers.”

  
Arthur was not surprised in the least that he would be the one to suggest that. With his muscular build and aggression, Morgan was not a man to sit idly by. “I’ll assign some of my men to you.”

  
“I’ll accompany you,” Morgana offered, smiling sweetly.

  
Arthur opened his mouth to protest.

  
“Oh, me too!” Lady Emily volunteered, smiling just as sweetly.

  
Morgan, the dog, smiled at them both and offered his arms. The two ladies, far from being offended by having to share, merely returned his smile and linked arms with him. Gwen shot him and Merlin a quick amused look before following the trio.

  
Arthur shook his head but let them go. Why argue when there were better things to get done? “C’mon, Merlin, let’s go talk to the knights.”

  
Arthur found not only Merlin trailing behind him but Rossi as well, leaving Hotchner and Reid heading off in the opposite direction, towards their quarters. They, as with all of the BAU members, had guards following their steps. Arthur wished he could call them off but his father’s orders had to stand until the killer was caught, mostly to assure that Hotchner would not be falsely accused of murder again. Hours and conversations after conversations later, Arthur, Merlin, and Rossi had not uncovered a single useful bit of information. They decided to leave it until the morning, making their way across the courtyard to the great hall.

  
“Arthur! Arthur!” Morgana was running at him full tilt, skirts hiked up like a hoyden. Lady Emily and Gwen, just as hoydenish as she, were steps behind. Morgan was nowhere to be seen.

  
Fear landed as a lodestone in Arthur’s stomach. Had Morgan fallen victim to the killer? “Morgana, where’s Morgan?”

  
She grabbed him, tugging him back towards the direction they had come. “You must come now!”

  
Lady Emily ran right past them. “I’ll get Hotch and Reid!”

  
“Prentiss, what’s going--”

  
“We got a tip!” She yelled over her shoulder, running right over Rossi’s words. “Morgan and some guards are going to check it out!”

  
Arthur immediately stopped fighting Morgana’s hold, running with her, shouting orders over his shoulder, calling for his men. “Gwen, tell my father everything!”

  
“Yes, sire!”

  
He spared one glance over his shoulder, saw her running into the great hall, Merlin and Rossi at his heels. His knights and guards spilled out of the armory and barracks, half dressed, stuffing food in their mouths with one hand as they grabbed their weapons in the other. Mere moments later, Lady Emily, Hotchner, and Reid caught up with them. They navigated the twists and turns of the middle village where merchants made their homes and their livings, following Morgana’s lead. Skidded to a stop when shouts and guards came rushing at them. The BAU ran right past him, only Merlin staying stubbornly by his side.

  
“What the hell is going on?” Arthur demanded.

  
“We need the healer, sire! Two men--”

  
“Go!” Arthur didn’t wait to hear more, running towards the commotion at a house only yards away. He found Morgan and Lady Emily trying to stop the life from bleeding out of a man inside. Another man lay dead; even with the blood marring his features, it was obvious he was the injured man’s son. Both bore the marks of the killer but only the living father still had his hand.

  
“My son,” he was mumbling, delirious with the pain and shock. Lady Emily murmured false reassurances even as she ripped off parts of her own gown for makeshift bandages.

  
Morgan helped her, giving his report over his shoulder. “One of the other butchers remembered that Tom here had three kids: two sons and a daughter. The youngest boy and Alice were twins. He died three months ago.” He threw them a significant look. “Kid killed himself with one of his dad’s knives.”

  
“The trigger,” Hotchner murmured from where he was examining the area around the dead son, “if they were close.”

  
Reid and Rossi had only spared the body a cursory glance before moving to examine the house. Both were clearly listening as they investigated the killer’s home. Arthur wondered what secrets this house was telling them.

  
“Two peas in a pod, from what I heard.” Morgan tightened the bandage he was working on, smiling wearily in thanks when Morgana handed him a wet cloth. “Neighbors said she took her brother’s death really hard. They also said Tom didn’t much like his youngest son. Something about him being more girl than boy.”

  
“Tom taught his craft to all of his children,” Lady Emily added to the story, finishing her bandage as well. She took the cloth Morgana offered, nodding in thanks, critically eyeing their work. “They all helped him. She had plenty of practice working with knives.”

  
“And I found her trophies.” Reid’s voice was muffled. He was in the back of the house, on his knees, pointing under a bed that had been tucked into the corner, away from the only source of heat and light in the house.

  
Arthur dreaded looking under the bed, thankfully didn’t have to when Merlin beat him to it. Merlin fearlessly stuck his hand into the gloom, pulling out a jar, filled with brining liquid and a man’s right hand. He left that one of the floor, bending back under the bed for a long moment.

  
“There’s one for each of the dead,” he confirmed as he straightened and stood, not bothering to pull out more.

  
“We’ve got the evidence; we know who we’re looking for.” Rossi moved out of the way as the guard returned with Gaius. The physician bustled in, murmuring to himself and giving Merlin orders which he jumped to do.

  
“Now we just have to catch her.” Purpose filled Arthur’s steps, his very being, as he strolled out of the house to address his men. Now he and his men could do something. Finally.

* * *

### Chapter Nine

  
Fruitless hours later, Arthur returned to the castle, with Merlin in tow. None of the guards or knights searching had been able to find Alice, her father was of no help as he did not live long enough to be questioned. Disheartened, he ordered half of his men to keep searching while the other half went for food and rest. They would trade off in a matter of hours. Arthur intended to find the same for himself and Merlin before rejoining them.

  
“Arthur, I’ve been thinking.”

  
It was a measure of his tiredness that Arthur didn’t take that opening. “And?”

  
“I can use that spell I found? The one to summon the killer?”

  
“No.” Arthur sighed even as he answered, fortifying himself for the argument that was sure to come.

  
“Why not?” Yeah, Merlin never disappointed when it came to orders.

  
“My men can handle it.” Arthur walked even faster. Not to outrun Merlin’s sure to be stupid argument but food and rest was calling his name.

  
“Yeah, but it’ll take forever. I can find her faster!” Merlin, damn him and his slightly longer legs, kept up with him far too easily.

  
“It’s unnecessary, Merlin. I don’t want you doing anything unnecessary.” He kept his voice low. The courtyard was mostly empty but he wasn’t taking any chances with Merlin’s magic.

  
“Wait a minute, you didn’t mind when I was going to summon help! You didn’t mind when you wanted your bath water reheated!” Merlin was completely outraged and getting louder and louder by the second.

  
“Merlin! One was because people were dying and we had no idea how to stop her! The other thing.” Arthur paused, glaring at Merlin’s expectant frown. “The other thing was done in private, you weren’t going to get caught.”

  
“And I can do this in private.” The idiot would not shut up!

  
Arthur felt his temper’s reins jerk from his very grasp. Found himself slamming Merlin up against a stone wall, nose to nose again, hands clenched around lean arm muscles again. “I said no,” he hissed. “How am I suppose to explain finding her by myself when half our army can’t? I will not have you endangering yourself when my men can do this. I will not risk you, you bloody idiot!”

  
Merlin’s eyes flashed, not with magical gold but with blue understanding. Those damn lips smirked. “Fine, you bloody prat, it looks like you’re stuck with me until she’s found.”

  
Arthur raised his eyebrow. “Oh really?”

  
That loveable, idiotic grin. “Really.”

  
Arthur had to kiss that stupid grin away, enjoying the soft laughter in Merlin’s kiss, tasting power and loyalty and friendship with every sweep of tongue and lips. Ground himself against a hard thigh, everything he ever wanted in his arms. Hissed in annoyance when Merlin pushed him away.

  
“Bed, you prat.” Merlin slowly back away, hands held up, warning Arthur from trying to grab him. His eyes twinkled but his face was set in misleadingly hard lines. “I’m not letting you take me up against a damn wall.”

  
Arthur smirked, Merlin gave a wicked grin and ran, daring him to catch him.

  
Arthur gave chase.

  
Neither saw the shadow flitting away.

* * *

Arthur needed more, wanted more. More skin, more kisses, more touches. He wanted everything Merlin was. His servant, his friend, his lover, his sorcerer. He yanked at Merlin’s clothes, uncaring that he was ripping them, fully intended to replace them with better. Better material to protect and warm this man that was his. He yanked at his own clothes, uncaring about their destination, only caring about his skin touching Merlin’s.

  
Merlin whined, low and arousing, slipping those long magical fingers over his shoulders, cupping them in his hands, using them to bring Arthur closer. He went so willingly, wrapped his arms around Merlin’s body, tilting his head back just that little bit for Merlin’s incredible kisses. Brushes of lips and tongue that conveyed love, loyalty, desire with each passing sweep. Arthur could only answer in kind, pressing closer, needing, wanting it all. The first touch of cock on cock made Arthur growl, seeking the sultry touch again and again.

  
“Bed, Arthur, bed,” Merlin breathlessly demanded.

  
Arthur glared at being ordered around but followed it nevertheless. Wasn’t at all surprised to see the amused gleam in Merlin’s eyes.

  
“All bark,” Merlin licked him, a long line of moist heat from neck to ear, biting down, sending erotic tingles down Arthur’s spine, “no bite.”

  
“No bite?” Arthur picked him up, roughly dumping him on the bed.

  
Merlin bounced backwards, laughing, landing in a sprawl of coltish arms and legs. But he reached for Arthur, yanking and pulling, manhandling him into the cradle of his thighs. Arthur thrust down, gritting his teeth at how good it all felt. Merlin under him, spread for his pleasure, wrapping around him with luminescent skin and golden magic. His lust could barely wait to be inside all that splendor but his love wanted more, wanted slow, wanted to savor. Merlin deserved the latter, spiced with the former.

  
Draping his heavy body over Merlin, Arthur teased him. Kisses to pink lips as light as sunbeams that made Merlin hungry and pant for more. Touches to pretty little nipples as sweet as summer plums, Merlin arching into his tongue and lips, hands in his hair demanding more. Merlin’s lips and fingers, finding places to exact their revenge: the nape of his neck, the curve of Arthur’s back, his own nipples were laved and licked and bitten into painful, pleasured peaks.

  
Arthur pulled away, ignoring Merlin’s pouting whimper, flipping his lover onto his stomach. Parting Merlin’s ass with this hands, he thumbed the pretty pink hole hidden between.

  
“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice was hesitant, blue eyes looking over his shoulder wide with lust and a little trepidation. “Is everything al--”

  
“I can’t wait to fuck you blind.”

  
A full body shudder raked Merlin from head to toe. Arthur grinned at him, knowing it was feral and predatory, saw its reflection in those blue eyes. He stared at those eyes even as he lowered his head, even as he licked a long wet stripe up Merlin’s ass. The blue vanished from Merlin’s eyes completely, overtaken by dark dilated lust and thin lines of magical gold. Arthur licked, again and again just to watch that unblinking stare flare gold again and again. Licked, nibbled, nipped, thrusting his tongue a little deeper each time. The room was breathing in time with Merlin’s harsh pants, contracting and expanding, candle flames the same blue as Merlin’s eyes, the very air saturated with need and want.

  
He touched a fingertip to the glistening wet hole, completely unsurprised when slickness coated it out of nowhere. Arthur grinned, surging up to kiss Merlin, swallowing the low moan when his finger slipped inside. “Hungry, are we?”

  
Laughed as Merlin’s glare turned into eyes shut in bliss. Arthur pressed again on the spot inside, brushing and teasing, adding another finger then another. Had to grip his cock, staving off orgasm when Merlin started riding his damn fingers. Dragged his fingers out to a displeasured whine, ignoring curses and complaints to grab Merlin by the hips and haul him to his knees. Savored the feel of his lover in his lap, pulling Merlin upright, back to chest, wrapped around slim muscles, sharing desperate kisses, swallowing fevered moans as he sank deep inside.

  
A slide so perfect Arthur nearly lost his mind, clutching at shoulder and waist, pulling out just to experience that flawless slide back in. Loved the way Merlin clawed at his arms, grabbing his ass to demand more, harder, _now_. Arthur gave him everything until Merlin cried out his orgasm in his arms, moaned his own into the shell of a ridiculously beloved ear, emptying himself in his lover’s pliant body.

* * *

Pain ripped through his arm, shocking him from sated sleep, jerking him into battle ready wakefulness. Arthur spun away from the shadowy figure lunging at him, taking Merlin and bedding with him. They landed in a heap on the floor, Arthur jumping to his feet as they touched ground. He stood between the attacker and Merlin, eyes widening in the dawning light. It was a woman, torn dress, dark hair wild, eyes bright with madness. A butcher’s knife, as long as Arthur’s arm, clenched in a white-knuckled fist. Alice.

  
“Arthur!” His lover squawked indignantly, jerking Arthur’s eyes back, seeing sleepy blue eyes widened and hardened at the sight of blood dripping down Arthur’s forearm. “Look out!”

  
Arthur ducked but not in time, hissing in pain as the knife sliced through his shoulder, shoving her harshly away, tripping her on the rug. She was screaming profanities and insanity, climbing back on her feet, wielding the knife in a perfect grip, blocking the way between them and the door. Between him and his sword. Arthur dove over the bed, rolling to his feet, surging towards his weapon. Yelled, surprised and shocked, she was already there, knife slicing, slashing. Ducking, weaving, avoiding her reach, desperate for his blade. Even with the weapon in her hand, the madness in her eyes, and the bodies of her victims fresh in mind, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to attack a woman. She shriek a battle yell. Scream dying mid-breath as a flash of gold exploded into her, flinging her across the room. She screeched in fury and fright, landing in a dazed heap. Arthur lunged for his sword, holding it steady at her throat.

  
Merlin had risen to his feet, terrifying in his nakedness, shrouded only by his power. Arthur would never fear Merlin, would never be afraid of him, even with this unearthly force at his command, would never shirk away from his lover. But he could only stand statue still in awe when Merlin’s magic had flung her away from them both. He shook the feeling off, looking back down at Alice, needing to deal with the imminent threat before dealing with intimate pleasure. Pressing the tip of his sword a hair’s breadth from her skin, he snarled, “Do not move.”

  
She ignored him utterly, was staring at Merlin in fear and amazement, then strangely enough, she smiled. “He can’t hurt you.”

  
Merlin joined him, one hand held at the ready, the other wrapped around Arthur’s bare hip. He tilted his head, studying her. “No, he can’t. He wouldn’t.”

  
She smiled again. “Good, that’s good.” With that she stopped fighting, slumping limply where she had landed. She didn’t move again. Like a puppet with its strings cut, she didn’t even appear to be conscious.

  
“Arthur.”

  
He blinked at the hand Merlin held out to him, taking it without thought. Arthur felt the magic swirling through him, catching only glimpses of his lover as Merlin mended most of the wounds, keeping an eye on their prisoner more often than not. Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow when he left the one on his arm still mostly bleeding.

  
“There’s blood everywhere.” He quirked his lips, gold still flashing in his eyes, amusement softening his features now that the danger had passed. “There has to be an explanation for it.”

  
Arthur smirked, kissing him. “For once, Merlin, you’re actually using your head.”

* * *

### Chapter Ten

  
Arthur stayed in the background as Hotchner took the seat across from Alice, a scribe in the corner, ready to take her confession. After they had dressed last night, Merlin had summoned the guards and Alice had been summarily escorted to the dungeons in shackles and chains. He had wanted to protest her treatment but she had killed so many he couldn’t take the chance. His father had taken one look at her, disbelief still in his eyes, and allowed Hotchner to conduct the promised interview.

  
“Alice?” Hotchner’s voice was softer than normal, more gentle as well. “Do you know who I am?”

  
She was gazing at him, smiling in a vacant way. In the morning light, Arthur could see how pretty she could have been, dark honey hair, cat green eyes, and clean, elegant facial lines. Would have been very pretty except for the anger and hate simmering in the air around her, distorting her face into a macabre mask with a ghoulish smile. “You’re the Frank. I killed for you.”

  
“Yes, you did.” Hotchner’s tone never changed; his expression still neutral yet encouraging. “Why did you do that?”

  
“He was a brute, he tried to hurt your husband.” Her smile was bigger now, brighter, no less insane. “You’re too honorable to just kill him so I did it for you.”

  
Hotchner tilted his head at her, studying her. “Is that why you killed those other men?”

  
“Brutes, all of them,” she hissed.

  
“Like your father and brother?” he carefully asked.

  
Alice nodded vigorously. “Brutes, whoremongers, rapists, curs. They deserved to die.”

  
“For what they did to Bray?”

  
Alice became statue still, eyes far away. Her face melting from angry mask to otherworldly pleasure. “Bray, my sweet, sweet brother Bray. It wasn’t his fault he was born so handsome.” She smiled dreamily. “He looks just like me, you know. Just a boy instead of a girl. We’re the best of friends, we like all of the same things.” She giggled childishly. “He even likes the same boys I do! But he always let me have them as my beaus. He never gets them for himself. He’s such a wonderful brother.”

  
Alice kept reminiscing, speaking of him as if he was still alive, Hotchner listening just as intently as ever. Arthur lost interest very, very quickly, disturbed more than bored. But he stayed, out of obligation to his king, to his people, and to Merlin. Not only did he owe them to see this thing through, but he also wanted to make sure Merlin’s secret was still safe. He stayed, even though he wanted nothing more than to be back in his room, curled around his lover. Thankfully, less than an hour later, Hotchner stood, thanking Alice quietly and leaving the room. Arthur waited until the last person left the cell before leaving himself. Not once did she mention Merlin’s magic.

  
“Your highness, what happens to her now?” Hotchner asked, voice kept low even though the corridor was empty.

  
“My father will have her put to death.”

  
“Probably for the best. Camelot doesn’t have the facilities to help her.” Hotchner nodded, unsurprised. “And us?”

  
Arthur stopped, holding out his hand, griping Hotchner’s hand tight. “You have Camelot’s thanks. Merlin and Gaius are gathering the ingredients as we speak.” He smirked sideways at him. “And in the meantime, my father is organizing a feast to celebrate the end of the terror and for your honor, of course.”

  
Hotchner laughed softly. “Your father really does love his parties.”

  
Arthur grinned. “Yes, he does.”

* * *

This feast was much more to Arthur’s liking. No more murders hanging over his head, no more manhunt to organize. A rowdy, joyful celebration where he could get pleasantly drunk and surreptitiously grope Merlin. He laughed into his goblet every time Merlin shot him a glaringly unamused look. Stopped laughing when a tendril of magic wormed its way into his breeches, teasing him with touches more daring than he thought Merlin capable of in public. That night they tumbled back into bed, fulfilling the teasing promises made throughout dinner, waking naturally with the sun.

  
Under the guise of seeing them off, Arthur, Merlin, Morgana and Gwen followed the BAU’s wagon deep into the forest. Once more in the clearing, they dismounted. Reid helped Merlin with the preparations, everyone talking as they waited. Arthur smiled, watching his friends, old and new, as they waited for Merlin and Reid to finish their preparations. Morgan and Lady Emily were listing all of the things from their time and world they had missed these last few days. Morgana and Gwen listened with wide eyes. Arthur wanted to join that conversation but duty before pleasure won. He stepped towards Hotchner and Rossi. "Thank you," he said simply.

  
Both men smiled at him, nodding in acknowledgment.

  
Rossi huffed a small laugh. "Normally, this is when we give you our contact information and say to call us if you need us in the future. . . "

  
Hotchner smirked as Arthur chuckled. "Thank you for the offer, but I hope we never do."

  
He took both their hands before turning to Morgan and Lady Emily. Their goodbyes were short, Lady Emily hugging both Morgana and Gwen. Both of the women bowed to Hotchner and Rossi, who surprised them with courtly bows of their own. Arthur merely raised his brow when Morgana bussed Morgan on the cheek. He turned away from them to watch his lover and Reid. Merlin was explaining something to the other man, and so Arthur contented himself with mere observation instead of joining their conversation. They were very similar, both tall and gangly, with a grace reminiscent of fawns and deer, but with the strength of character shining in their eyes.

  
Merlin saw him in the corner of his eye and beamed at him.

  
Arthur was helpless to do naught but beam back. He joined them then, aiming a friendly smile at Reid. “Everything ready, then?”

  
Merlin nodded.

  
As if that was the cue, their visitors from the future finished their goodbyes and stepped into the circle. Hotchner and Reid looped their arms around each other, the other three spaced evenly out around them. Arthur made sure Morgana and Gwen were a safe distance away, positioned himself behind Merlin, before nodding to his lover to begin.

  
As Merlin’s arms rose into the air, the candles lit and power grew. Arthur shivered as magic and energy that felt of Merlin swirled around his body, amazed again with the force of nature that was his lover. Chanted words directed the sorcery at those in the circle. Another blinding flash of light, another explosion of power, and all was still.

* * *

They awoke much like the last time, only they were faced with an empty glade rather than strangers from the future. In no hurry, Arthur helped Gwen set out a picnic lunch while Morgana saw to Merlin’s rest. Eventually, they packed up and headed for home. They meandered back to the castle, walking in the sun, enjoying the quiet of the forest, not even bothering to mount their horses for most of the way. Along the way, Morgana and Gwen picked flowers and gossiped, leaving Arthur alone with Merlin. Companionable silence, the occasional brushing of shoulders and arms, the brazen twining of long, magical fingers with his own, all of it made Arthur smile.

  
“So, it’s been an interesting few weeks.”

  
Arthur smirked as Merlin broke the silence, knowing his lover was never one for peace and quiet. He didn’t answer, merely stopping to brush his lips against Merlin’s, loving the way his wizard smiled widely into their kiss.

  
“A great few weeks,” Merlin amended, melting into Arthur’s arms. “Best few weeks of my life,” he vowed fervently.

  
Arthur threw his head back and laughed.

The End

* * *


End file.
